Granger, we need to talk
by SpeedisArmour
Summary: Eighth Year Golden Trio returns. Yes, all three. Characters as close to canon as I can write. Re-building Hogwarts, the Quiddich pitch. Veterans returning, PTSD, rotten privileged PureBloods. Need plural wives? Arrgh! Very slow burn. HP/HG/DG eventually. Will include every cliché, and trope I can remember. Not epilogue or HPCC compliant. Dumbles bashing. M for language.
1. Chapter 1

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 1

Prologue

Disclaimer:

All recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling.

No money is being made from this story.

Friday, September 11, 1998

"Granger, we need to talk."

And with those five words, dropped in the quiet buzz of the Eighth Year common room, the first spell of the latest war for control of wizarding culture had been launched. Yes, the effects would take decades to unfold, but, they would sweep away the old wizarding world of Great Britain and Ireland. It would not be as quick as the soon-to-be-again-warriors wanted, but, as irresistible as an avalanche, it would sweep all before it and bury those that stood in its way.

Hermione Granger raised her head from the book she was reading, and looked up past her nest of surrounding books, into the diamond bright blue eyes of fellow Eighth year Daphne Greengrass.

"Yes, what can I do for you?" the brunette, bushy-haired young women replied, stepping on her irritation at being interrupted as the gorgeous blonde slid into the seat next to her.

"Well," the cultured drawl of the ex-Slytherin Ice Queen quietly carried only as far as Hermione's ear, "First, I would like to tell you that I have in my room several hair conditioning potions that would make a tremendous difference in taming your hair."

Hermione glared back with narrowed eyes at the comment about her normally untamable bushy brown hair.

Hermione's frown was deepening when Daphne held out a large, thick tome and placed it on the table in front of Hermione, "Secondly, I would take it as a personal favor if you would read this book, and make the time to discuss it with me within a couple of days."

"Greengrass", Hermione replied not deigning to look at the book, "I'm really busy right now."

"I am studying for my NEWTS, working on my Muggle Studies Assistantship duties, I have tutoring sessions and . . . "

"Granger, "Daphne interrupted with a smirk. "We have been in classes less than a week. Even you cannot have reached time saturation yet."

A wand suddenly appeared in the blondes hand, and before any of the idly curious watchers combat reflexes could react with violence, a quick Muffliato and a visual blur ward was around the table, and the wand disappeared.

"Granger, I cannot, repeat, cannot, emphasize just how important it is that you read this book. I'm sure what you are doing is important to you at this moment." The blue eyes darkened from whatever Greengrass was remembering from the book. "That will change after you understand what is in here."

"That important, huh?" came the waspish reply from Hermione. "Hell of an opinion of yourself you have there, Greengrass.

"Yes." Came the cool, no give statement from the blondes' lips.

At that moment, some perverse imp made Hermione open her mouth and say, "Oh, who will this book tell me I have to save this time? "

The famous Ice Queen of Slytherin mask instantly descended on Daphne's face as she slowly lifted her head and locked flat, dead eyes on Hermione.

"Harry James Potter. Isn't that what you specialize in doing?"

As Hermione gaped in shock, Daphne's wand re-appeared and with a quick flick, the privacy charms disappeared. She turned and glided back to the couch where her friend Tracy Davis waited with a carefully blank face and the two young women turned and headed off to their bedroom. They left a surprised looking Hermione Granger and some speculative looks on some of the other faces behind them.

 **A/N**

Chapter two will be uploaded as fast as I can get the wifi around here to co-operate.

For all of you who read the one shot, "Granger, let's have a talk", that I uploaded for needed practice, (and brother, did I need the practice!) a revision of that chapter will be about Chapter 12 in this story.

Chapter 3 and beyond should be posted about every two weeks through the summer. But I travel in wifi mediocre to poor places and do not think I have forgotten you if delays occur.


	2. Chapter 2 We Won? Right?

GRANGER, WE NEED TO TALK

Chapter 2

Disclaimer:

All recognizable characters are the property of JK Rowling

No money is being made from writing this story.

This work is not beta'd. Any mistakes are mine.

We Won. Why Do We Feel So Lousy?

[(Yes, this is a flashback from Ch 1 )]

June 16, 1998

After an exhausting three days of International Portkey trips, they had arrived back in England and back at the Burrow. Part way through the trip, Harry had vowed to Hermione that if they ever returned to Australia for another attempt to restore her parents memories, they were going to fly on a Muggle aircraft.

Neither of them had quite expected the greetings they got from their significant other.

Mr. Weasley had greeted them warmly as they walked into the Burrow. And Molly had given out her patented suffocating hugs, remarking on how under fed they both looked and food would be on the table shortly. Each had expected a little more enthusiasm from Ron and Ginny than that offered to old friends who had not been seen for a while. They spent the evening catching up with each other on what had happened over the last three weeks.

Ron had held Hermione when she broke down in tears while describing how she had failed with bringing back her parents memories. But it had been sort of old Ron awkward cuddle. Not boyfriend Ron snuggle. Hermione had an instant of karma from when she had once described Ron as having the emotional range of a teaspoon.

Hermione had half-way expected Ron's behavior as their We Are Sweethearts demeanor had dwindled sharply shortly after the funeral for Fred. She still did not know how to handle their new, but old, but new, relationship. Part of her wanted boyfriend Ron back. Part of her wanted just her old friendship with Ron back. And part of her wanted what that traitorous little whisper in her mind that she quashed whenever it popped up suggested.

Harry was confused. Ginny had not greeted him as passionately as he had expected after almost a month long separation. She hadn't been cold so much as . . . distant, maybe?

They were supposed to be a couple, right? So why was her long-lost greeting a light hug and just a peck on the cheek? What had happened to the kisses that had curled his toes? (And uncurled other parts of him!)

After two days, a frustrated Harry had finally hauled Ginny out to the orchard away from the house and asked her what was wrong. After a lot of hemming and hawing, Ginny had finally said things had changed. When he pressed her about what had changed, she said that she had, and believed he had also.

"Harry, I do not expect you to understand how living last year at Hogwarts, living under the Carrow's, has changed me." I don't think you understand how living your year searching for Horcruxes has changed you. And twice, twice damn you, you deliberately put yourself directly in front of Voldemorts killing curse."

"When Hagrid carried you into the courtyard and Voldmort announced that you were dead, the pain of my heart ripping to shreds was worse than any Cruciatus the Death Eaters cursed me with last year."

"Then you lived. Somehow you lived. And I soared! My Harry was alive! All I had to do was fight a bit longer and we would be together forever!"

"You know the rest of the battle was a confused mess. I thought I was going to die a dozen times from curses that just missed me or ones I never saw coming that were blocked by a shield someone cast. You've told me you saw Hermione, Luna and I fighting Bellatrix. But I haven't told you I was losing. I was so tired. I could feel that I was not going to keep dodging her curses much longer."

Ginnys' voice was rising. "She was going to kill me. It was just a matter of a few more seconds and I was going to die!" The last words were said almost in a scream.

She gulped, shuddered and after a few seconds started talking again.

"Then Mom saved me by killing Bellatrix, suddenly you appeared out of nowhere to save everyone from Voldemort's curses. There you were, my hero, putting himself out front so he would kill no one else." Ginny was starting to cry. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"Do you have any idea how my emotions whipsawed through ecstasy that you were still alive down to total despair that The Monster was going to kill you, probably in some sickeningly violent way, AND I WAS GOING TO SEE IT!"

By now Ginny was a blubbering mess, actually beating on Harrys' chest with her fists. Harrys' reaction was to pull her into a tight hug as tears started to roll down his face also. He opened his mouth a couple of times to say something only to close it again as he could not find any words to say.

It took almost five minutes and a handkerchief wipe before Ginny could start talking again. "You know, Harry. I was actually injured worse when I followed you into the Ministry three years ago than I was in the final battle. But the Carrow's and the junior Death Eaters hurt me so badly last year with their hexes and curses. And they did it so casually just because they could. A casual flick from their wands and I have scars you haven't seen." Ginny's voice broke at the last.

"And Harry, I have decided that you will probably never see them."

It was the day after Harry had confronted Ginny about their relationship.

The four young adults listlessly sat scattered around the living room of the Burrow after a sweaty night of little sleep. Southern England was in the middle of a heat wave and the summer sun was scorching anything that was exposed outside under the cloudless sky.

They sweltered, trying not to stare at each other, wondering how did they get to this point?

The sheer joy at having survived The War had quickly been replaced by the soul-crushing string of funerals for the fallen. They had been the leaders of the Light, and along with Neville Longbottom, believed they had to honour all who had stood with them at that final stand against the madness. So they attended the funerals and chipped a small piece away from their

souls at every grave.

Today, four of the five were pondering their past, present and future. Hermione and Harry had returned from the almost month long trip to Australia four days ago, and all four of them were feeling off-center, off kilter, off-something. The finally meshed gears of the Golden Quartet were clashing instead of meshing.

Ron

Ron Weasley sat on the large couch in the living room staring into nothing. It was his day off from working at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and the heat was rapidly worsening his mood.

He was hot. He was miserable from dwelling on his dead brother Fred. And he was tired from working with his brother George in the store, as the ongoing struggle to keep George from collapsing completely from the death of his twin took energy Ron just did not have, because he was sleeping poorly himself. He glanced at the other people in the room. Harry Potter, his best mate, who hadn't said five words all morning and frankly looked like shite. His sister Ginny, who he thought might be the toughest of all the Weasleys, looked worn and lost. Hermione had not turned a page of the book she was reading for fifteen minutes.

Ron thought melancholy might be the word that fit his feelings for his brown-eyed friend at the moment. Sadness seemed too strong. They had not broken up as a couple so much as stepped back from the frenzied rush of relief at having lived through the Final Battle and had drifted into deciding they just could not be a couple at this time. Too many forces were working against them. Hermione's angst about obliviating her parents memories had led to her frantic trip to Australia last month. Ron had truly felt he could not leave his family at the time. The resulting failure to restore her parents memories of her as their daughter had almost broken her. If Harry had not gone with her, Ron seriously thought they may not have ever seen her again.

Ginny's Thoughts

Ginevra Weasley sat in a chair attempting to leaf through a copy of Teen Witch Weekly magazine and not stare at the boy, "No, that's not right" She thought. "The young man", seated across the room from her.

Her mind wandered over the months of agonizing over her missing love, the night-haunting memories of her abuse by the Carrow's and their Death Eater sympathizers during her sixth year at Hogwarts. Her soul crushing loss of her brother Fred and the final month of separation had changed her. Especially how she thought and felt about Harry. It had all conspired to bring a surprisingly non-dramatic end to her girlfriend/boyfriend relationship with Harry Potter. She figured being miserable from the weather was the least of her problems. Seeing him dead in the battle had almost killed her. When he came back to life to continue the fight, her heart had soared in disbelieving happiness. She was rather baffled by what she would have sworn was all enduring love for her Harry had changed after The Battle into a hard look at herself and what she wanted from the rest of her life. The two weeks of funerals had her constantly helping to prop Harry up from total collapse. The month of his absence during his trip to Australia with Hermione had left her with too much time to dwell on her and Harry's relationship. The four weeks of feeling she had to be the strong family member for the rest of the Weasley's. Supporting George, Ron and her Mum had drained her liveliness.

Yet, she believed that what was a now missing part of her personality would return given time and peace. And she had come to the conclusion that Harry was not going to be there for that fun-part of Ginny Weasley that was going to reappear when she felt she could seek out happiness again. Harry was going to spend the rest of his life as a celebrity, and he would hate it. He would hate every attempt to praise and idolize him that would come from the wizarding world. She had come to the unhappy conclusion that Harry was going to become a recluse, turning away from the magical world to seek some way to bury his memories of those who had been killed by Voldemort and his minions. The ones he had failed to save

Being the girlfriend/fiancé/wife of the Boy-Who-Lived, the Boy-Who-Conquered, the Boy-Who-Saved-All-Their-Asses, should be a life filled with endless balls, galas and parties. Life with Harry should be the stuff of fairytales and romance stories.

Life with Harry Potter, who could not rid himself of the guilt that he was responsible for all those who died fighting for him, would be a life of long silences with frequent screaming nightmares instead of sleep. From both of them.

She had decided Harry would always be a good friend, maybe her best friend, if he could be kept from descending into his own personal hell. A part of Ginny Weasley's heart wanted a return to the thrill and the passion of Harry Potter finally seeing her as a young woman. But spending the last year trapped in Hell at Hogwarts, and the desperate pragmatism forced onto her by the day to day struggle to survive and not give in to despair had changed her. Ginny had learned she could walk through Hell and come out the other side. Now, why did that thought make her think of Neville?

Ginny had no idea of what would happen next or what she would do in the near future, but

trying to re-romance Harry Potter?

Not happening.

Hermione's Tale

Numb. That was the emotion most prevalent across Hermione Granger mind. She felt her emotions were burned out. A year on the run seeking the horcruxes. Perpetually tired, hungry and cold as the warming charms on the tent slowly failed through the winter. The constant worry as the locket leached out their good feelings.

The agony of Ron's leaving.

The joy of his return.

She remembered how whipsawed her feelings for Ron were during the next months as she struggled with her traumatic memories of torture on the floor of Malfoy Manor and the death of Dobby. She could only sort of remember that crazy time as they planned to, and then broke into Gringotts to steal the Horcrux from the Lestrange vault. How her stretched nerves had screamed from the danger they were entering. Turned out her nerves had been correct. She was now positive they had become insane by the time they had escaped on the dragons back (!) and then fought to the death, literally in Harry's case, against Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

The joy of survival was brutally cut off by the death of Remus, Tonks, Fred and others. And then by all the funerals they had to attend. They had become the visible image that Voldemort was truly gone. That it was _all_ going to be alright. Not attending would have been an insult to all those who had made the ultimate sacrifice in the War.

Broken. They were effing broken by it all. Her relationship with Ron had withered under all the unending separate assaults on their time. Ron had to spend time with family and especially George. Her month long trip to Australia and its utter failure had driven her into depression, and their relationship had suffered due to her absence. Neither of them seemed to have the energy to attempt to repair it.

Screaming nightmares, depression, lack of sleep since their return trip and now, lack of privacy at the Burrow had her wondering if she was ready to make a pilgrimage to Nepal or some other place where she could find peace, quiet and some healing.

"Of course," a traitorous little voice in the back of her head reminded her, "you have already found one way of getting some peace at night." She hoped anyone looking at her would think the blush on her face was from the stifling heat.

Harry

Harry was starting to regard mirrors as evil. They showed him all too clearly that stress did show up on the face of a person. In spite of everyone repeatedly telling him it was not his fault so many had died in the war, he could not stop thinking and dreaming that if he had just been a bit faster or smarter, so many lives could have been saved. They came to him in the night, begging for him to save them this time. And he failed.

Every bloody time.

In his more lucid moments, Harry wondered why their dying in his nightmares were usually more gruesome and brutal than most of their deaths had been. No simple Avada Kedavra and fall over dead in dreamland.

He was ineffably relieved when the funerals had ended. And the chance to flee to Australia had been a godsend to his over-stressed mind. He and Hermione had come so close to not returning to England. And part of the reason was that he and Hermione had started sleeping together in one of the hotels they had stayed at.

It had started one night a week into the search for her parents. They had found the last open hotel room in town, and for the first time had stayed in the same room for the night when Hermione's nightmares had woken him up before his own nightly visions had kicked in. Holding his screaming, thrashing, shuddering best friend down has he desperately woke her up from being tortured in Malfoy Manor had affected him deeply. He had held her weeping form in his arms until she cried herself back to sleep, and then before he could muster the energy to move, he had fallen asleep also. And his nightmares had not come to him that night. The next night, it had been Hermione who had been awakened by the cries of Harry. "No. Take me. Take me instead." That night it was her turn to hold the weeping Hero of the Wizarding World in her arms until he fell asleep. When he woke up the next morning to find her sleeping with her head on his chest, he almost imploded from embarrassment. Later, as he looked back on it, since she was on top of the blankets and he was under them, really was no different than the few times they had fallen asleep under a blanket in the Gryffindor common room when she was making him study or researching some spells or charms to save him from dragons or Voldemort.

He was trying to ease away from her when she spoke.

"Please Harry, don't move," she said, "I need to talk to you."

Without looking at him, she continued. "Harry, answer me a question."

Harry managed a grunt to let her know he was listening.

"Did you have any more bad dreams after we fell asleep together two nights ago?

It took Harry two tries before he could reply. "No."

"Neither did I," she responded. She raised her head and looked Harry right in his eyes. "And I had none last night."

Harry got as far as "B…b..but what are we g.."

At that point Hermione had raised her arm and placed a finger on his lips to quiet him.

"Harry, at this moment I really wish you were Ron. And I'll wager a pile of galleons that you wish I was Ginny."

Harry was too paralyzed to even nod.

"We are so desperate for sleep that we going to do something we should not."

Harry's eyes felt as big as saucers. He had forgotten how to breathe.

"I do not want to tease you sexually Harry." She said, continually looking him straight in the eye. "But I need my best friend right here, right where he is, right now, for me." "And that's holding Bellatrix, or Greyback, or whomever away from me."

Pause. "And I will do my damnedest to keep your ghosts away from you."

And they had kept it platonic all those nights. Even after her two failures to undo her magic on her parents, had her crying inconsolably for two days. Two days that left Harry thinking he was on a suicide watch. He became terrified to leave her alone, and insisted they leave for England before Hermione caused permanent damage to her parents in her desperation to "cure" them.

After all, this is what best friends did for each other. They helped each other, supported each other, and sometimes became a slave driver for the other. It was time to go home.

And so it was that four discontented young adults sweltered as they sat inside on a hot day, when being outside under a shade tree would have been a better choice. But that was so much effort. Didn't seem worth it.

Depression, thy results are legion.

The teens had listlessly finished lunch when suddenly a large, dark grey, regal looking owl flew in the living room window and settled on the table in front of Harry.

"Blimey Harry," exclaimed Ron. "Look at the band on its leg! That's a Gringotts owl!

"Why would Gringotts send me an Owl?" Harry asked out loud.

The owl looked Harry right in his eyes as it extended its leg with an envelope tied to it out to him. Harry untied the envelope and opened it. As soon as he did, the owl took off back out the window. It apparently did not need to deliver a reply.

Mr. Potter,

I request that you come to Gringotts tomorrow on a matter of utmost urgency.

9:00 AM would be most convenient as our discussion may last several hours.

Upon entering, please enquire for the Head Teller. He will bring you to my office.

If the above is acceptable, tap the letter with your wand and an affirmative reply will be sent to me.

Bloodslash,

Potter Account Junior Manager

Harry showed the letter to his friends around the breakfast table. No one could tell him what the letter could mean.

Hermione spoke first. "Kingsley told us that the Ministry had taken care of the demands the Goblins had made about our break-out from Gringotts. So now what?

Ron summed up their confusion when he said, "Well, it can't be that bloody…."

"Language, Ron"

"….important if the meeting is only with a Junior Account Manager."

Harry pondered those words for a short time, made a mental note to talk with Mr. Weasley, shrugged, and tapped his wand on the parchment. A blue glow flared briefly, then disappeared.

Fate was not done with the quartet this day.

It was only ten minutes later the floo flared to life in the living room and Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, asked Molly if he and Minerva McGonagall could floo in for a visit.

The floo's green flames roared to life as Kingsley stepped gracefully through the flames and dusted some soot off his robes as he stepped away from the fireplace so Professor McGonagall could follow. The tall, stately witch strolled out of the fireplace with nary a bobble, using her wand to clean her robes as she walked. All four of the young adults smiled as they greeted two of their favorite people. Molly was in a dither as she came bustling out of her kitchen. She felt that her house was not in condition for such exalted visitors. With smiling reassurances to Molly that her house was more than fit for company, Shacklebolt indicated that the four young adults and Molly should sit at the dining table with him and McGonagall.

"Harry, Ron, I'm afraid I have some bad news for the two of you. I'm sure you remember I said last spring that I would get the usual requirements waived for your entry into the Auror Academy"? Unfortunately, it seems that I am a mere Minister of Magic, not a rule upholding group of bureaucrats defending their little fiefdoms to their dying breaths."

"I cannot fire these small minded little idiots" he continued. "They actually do have the existing regulations and laws on their side. And they just point out the relevant rules to me, and say that with proper NEWT scores and recommendations from approved ministry members, they will immediately process my request to place you in auror training."

Shacklebolt seemed to struggle against wanting to spit on the floor.

He went on. "And just to put the frosting on this cake of stupidity, some of the older auror's have actually supported them saying they wouldn't want to end up having to work with some uneducated rookie." "You and Ron could probably out-dual them in less than five seconds"

"None of them were at The Battle. Oh no, they were tasked by the rule wavers with guarding department heads oh-so precious arses at the Ministry during the fighting."

The calmest, most unflappable man the young ones had ever known was practically shaking with frustration.

"PureBlood arseholes. Every bloody"…"Language, Minister", came from McGonagall. .. one of them."

The six listeners were shocked by Kingsley's outburst. Yet after a few seconds Hermione spoke up.

"Minister Sha . ., ahhh, Kingsley," she said. "I think I speak for all of us that I am honored that you consider us close enough friends to speak about your frustrations truthfully to us. Thank you for your trust."

A murmur of agreement echoed around the table.

"Minister, "started Harry.

"It's Shack to you Harry, and to the rest of you also." Kingsley stated. "I get enough fawning over every day at the Ministry to supply me for a lifetime."

Harry paused, obviously affected by Shacklebolt's declaration. "Shack, what can we do to help?

"Get some da…er …really good NEWT scores," was the reply. "Which leads me into why I am here with Minerva.

All eyes swiveled to Professor McGonagall who cleared her throat.

"First, let me be the first to inform you that Hogwarts will open again for classes this

September 7th, only a week late" she spoke with obvious pride. Ginny and Hermione both perked up at this piece of news. In fact, Hermione had to suppress a squeal of delight.

"I can take my NEWT'S, I can take my NEWT'S" was chanting in her brain.

"Second, I have been confirmed as the new Headmistress of Hogwarts."

"Wow. Congratulations Professor," Harry and Ron said simultaneously.

The girls both rolled their eyes and Hermione let Ginny state the obvious.

"That's Headmistress, you thickheads," she huffed. She looked at Hermione. "Boys," she continued in that tone of voice women have used forever to describe young male stupidity.

"Third, I could use your help in the rebuilding," the Headmistress continued. "All four of you are magically powerful and we really need a final human touch on some of the school parts." "Goblins, and house elves can only take the work to a certain point."

Harry and Ron looked at each other with a "What?" in their eyes. Hermione and Ginny just nodded as though the reason for the statement was known by them.

"Fourth," the litany rolled onward. "I need the four of you attending Hogwarts this fall as a signal to all the mothers and fathers in Britain that the school is a safe place to send their precious children."

"To put it bluntly," she continued, "we need your prestige. Your fame if you will. A lot of parents will be reassured by your presence at Hogwarts that their children will be safe this year. I am telling no secrets in that I expect a small class of second and third years this term. Many of the first and second years were used last year as test subjects for Unforgivable Curse practice. Many will not return."

"And, yes," she continued relentlessly. "If we have to coddle them and baby sit them while dragging them to the Mind Healers, I will expect you to be leading the effort. In fact, I am of the belief that many of our "veterans" of The Battle could use some mind healing also."

The four youngest at the table all flicked quick glances at each other. Shacklebolt had a hard time keeping his face impassive as it was obvious that each of them thought they were coping, but, the _other three_ could really use the help McGonagall had just offered. He was wrong in Harry's case though. Harry was actually wondering where all this worry about abused students had been when he needed it after killing Quirrel, after almost dying from the basilisk, or after Cedric's or Sirius's death.

McGonagall stopped and took a deep breath.

"Miss Granger. Will you take some notes, please. I do not need your answer on returning for what we will be calling the Eighth Year today, but, I will need your answers very quickly." "And I want you to make a list of questions and suggested changes to the classes we have and new classes we can add to the curriculum. We will discuss that in a few days."

McGonagall took a steadying breath and squared her shoulders.

"Miss Weasley, can I count on you to return for your NEWT year? McGonagall asked. She quickly held up a hand at Mrs. Weasley who had leaned forward and opened her mouth. "I want her to answer, not you Molly. She is the one who will be returning to what was a hellhole last year, and all the bad memories that entails."

"But she . . "

"Molly!"

"Well," thought Harry, "she has that Head Mistress reprimand voice down pat."

Ginny cocked an eye at Hermione who gave a slight nod. Then she turned to Harry and asked, "Think that for once in your life you can do normal?"

Harry stared back at her. Five seconds. Ten seconds passed. Then with a smirk he said, "Yeah, I can do normal."

Ginny immediately snorted. "Well, at least we will be able to say he tried"

"Yeah, right," added Hermione. "Normal."

Both girls looked at each other and both had a short attack of giggles. Both McGonagall and Shacklebolt had small grins on their faces.

Ginny continued, "Where you guys lead, I shall follow. I've got to quit being the youngest. It gets old."

McGonagall continued, "Miss Granger?

"Of course," she replied quickly.

"Mr. Potter?

Harry looked at every person present around the table before answering.

"Harry." Hermione's voice was quiet, but clear with purpose. "I know _, I know!_ you hate how your fame and legend defines you to almost everyone else in wizarding Britain. Isn't it time to use that fame for something besides making fan girls swoon when they look at you?"

She and Harry looked at each other, unblinking, bright green to warm chocolate brown, for what seemed forever to the others around the table.

"Very well Headmistress, I will." He ignored the release of tension in her shoulders. "However Shack, you can stop your crusade to get me into Auror Academy. I think I have fought enough evil wizards and collected enough scars to last me a lifetime."

"Oh, I would have worked hard to become an Auror, but since Voldemort simplified my life by killing off all his Death Eaters who had failed him yet again, I don't think I need to become one for the Ministry now."

"After seventeen years of fighting evil in one form or another, I'm done."

Surprise rippled around the table, but no one questioned his right to say he had finally done enough.

It was a somber Headmistress who turned to Ron and quietly said, "Mr. Weasley? And once again she had to throw up a silencing hand in Molly Weasley's face. "Molly, You. Will. Be. Silent."

"This son of yours is a full grown man and has fought to the death in a war against unspeakable evil."

Ron looked astounded at the words of praise from McGonagall.

"Well, I dunno," he said "I…I mean what about George? And what about all the studying?

I mean for me to pass NEWT's would mean someone would have to stick a boot up me ar….."

"That can be done." Hermione quickly interjected with a straight face. Ginny tried, but a snort of humor broke through her try at a serious mien.

"Mr. Weasley, can you be bribed?" McGonagall asked, looking Ron right in the eye.

Ron stared back at her in confusion. "Huh?

"I have a destroyed school quidditch pitch that needs total rebuilding. So therefor I need a quidditch fanatic who can get all the work done that is needed so that the Hogwarts Quidditch season can start on time. I need hard, smart work or you will not get finished in time. "

McGonagall continued, "And I need someone to teach first years how to fly a broom when school starts. And a referee for the quidditch matches." No one needed to be told why Ron could fill the last two roles. Madam Hooch's funeral had been one of the earliest.

"You come back to Hogwarts and I will work you like you were a Death Eater house elf."

Ron looked as though he had been stunned by a bludger. He quickly looked over to Hermione and Ginny. They both expressionlessly stared right back at him. He then looked at Harry and received that same expressionless look in return. He was about two breathes away from having a panic attack when Ginny reached out and touched his hand.

"This is a tough decision, brother," she said. "On one hand, you have Mum and Dad and Percy and I. We are trying to not dwell on Fred's death, and we are all trying to not give in to despair from his loss." She ignored everybody's flinch as she bluntly spoke about Fred. Ginny continued on. "And what about George? We know you are one of the props that keeps him from falling into total oblivion." "But can the other props be made stronger? And maybe we can find other props."

Ginny kept going. "So, the question becomes, what about you, slightly older brother of mine? Maybe a change for you can be a change for all of us."

It took Ron three tries before his voice would work.

"Me?" he said. "You want me to fix the quiddich pitch and then teach firsties to fly brooms? And then referee the House matches?

That is exactly what I want you to do, Mr. Weasley. I _will_ find a way to turn your work into an Apprenticeship, and you will be paid for the broom flying lessons" McGonagall replied.

"Paid?" spluttered Ron. "As with galleons?

The stern visage of the Headmistress did not smile, although her twinkling eyes said she wanted to. "Yes. Galleons."

"I'll do it," Ron firmly stated.

"Excellent," said McGonagall. "Would you take a bit of advice, Mr. Weasley?

Warily Ron nodded.

"Get your friend Mr. Longbottom to help you with re-growing the grass on the pitch. Professor Sprout will be much too busy getting the greenhouses in shape to hold her classes in again to help you." She actually now smiled at the still shocked looking young man. "Can you think of anyone at Hogwarts who can better help you get green grass to grow in time for quiddich season?"

Ron just shook his head, not trusting his voice yet.

"Very well then, " McGonagall said wrapping up the conversation. "Can I expect to see you at the castle in three days? Remember, the so-called Eighth Years will be taking Seventh Year NEWT classes for the most part. We will be setting up a series of tests to find if some may be able to proceed into something more advanced."

"Lastly, please bring a list of improvements to any classes you can think of, and any new classes you believe the school should offer."

The last comment brought small gasps from Hermione and Ginny and all four of them swapped quick looks with each other.

"Yes, Headmistress" came from the four young people.

Dinner was a fairly quiet as everyone was wrapped in their own thoughts. After dinner Harry showed Mr. Weasley his Gringotts letter and asked for his advice. Harry was a bit surprised when Mr. Weasley said he knew very little about how an account manager worked as they had never had one. A floo call to his oldest son Bill, who worked for Gringotts, soon had the still roguish red-head stepping through the fireplace into the Burrow. After arriving he commented he wanted to thank whomever had given him an excuse to get away from Shell Cottage for a while. He strongly inferred that pregnant veela's were "just a bit moody".

Bill spent almost half an hour talking to Harry about the why he would have an account manager and how to act in the private back rooms area of the bank.

After the four teens were done trying to absorb the knowledge Bill imparted, Harry was left with a thought and a mystery. One, pulling out your wand in Gringotts would have you executed faster than you could say Quiddich. And why did Bill imply that he was surprised that Harry would be meeting with only a Potter Junior Account Manager?

Sleep came a bit easier that night, and no one was disturbed by any of the others nightmares.

Of course, in some cases, it was because they had gotten better applying silencing charms around their rooms.

 **A/N**

First time author here.

Picked Eighth Year for Lord Harry Potter because it is done less then after 4th or 5th year.

This story as it advances will contain more clichés, standard tropes, more theft of story components and redundancies than usual. I will state right now that if I knowingly use another authors plot idea **I will cheerfully credit them** with the idea. If you think I have stolen someone else's words or deeds, please PM me with the Author, Story Title **and** Chapter. (I am NOT going to wade through a whole story looking for my possible transgression.)

Oh, yeah. I'm supposed to say if you have any reasonable comments, please review.

And help. My grammar needs work.


	3. Chapter 3

GRANGER, WE NEED TO TALK

Chapter 3

Disclaimer:

All recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling.

No money is being made from this story.

Whipsawed at Gringotts

June 18, 1998

It was five minutes before 9:00 AM when Hermione and Harry walked into the Gringotts lobby. Ginny and Ron had not come on the trip as Ginny was visiting Luna at her tent near her destroyed house, and Ron was at Weasley Wizarding Wheezes working. Harry didn't tell Hermione that he was actually alright that the other two had been busy. He had no idea what the Goblins wanted, except that it would probably involve gold and he just did not fancy having to dance around Ron or Ginny or Mrs. Wesley's "tender sensibilities" about the gold in his vault today.

Despite the assurances the goblins had given the Ministry that none of The Trio were under threat of goblin justice for the break-in to the vaults, destruction of the Gringotts lobby and theft of a Gringotts security dragon, both teens were slightly apprehensive as they entered into the seemingly untouched bank lobby. The teller windows looked just as they had five years ago. It was obvious Gringotts had gone for the "Nothing had happened here. There was no damage. We were merely performing renovations" look.

The lobby might have looked as though nothing had happened two months ago, but the fiercely armed and armoured goblin guards obviously recognized the pair. It was hard to tell the emotions on the guards faces, but from the way their progress was tracked through the lobby, a very close watch was being kept on the pair. Harrys' already taut nerves were being further stretched by the scrutiny. He could recite from memory the warning against thievery over the entry arch.

 **Enter, stranger, but take heed**

 **Of what awaits the sin of greed,**

 **For those who take, but do not earn,**

 **Must pay most dearly in their turn.**

 **So if you seek beneath our floors**

 **A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware**

 **Of finding more than treasure there. (** From JKR, HP&SS Chap. 5 **)**

"Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it" Hagrid had said.

They had all decided that by the time they did, they had been completely mad.

The pair had just stepped into a teller line when a nastier than usual looking goblin dressed in formal business goblin attire approached them.

"I am Eyegouge, Mr. Potter" he stated. "I am the Head Teller and will take you to your appointment with Bloodslash. Follow me."

The two young adults were not surprised by the goblins action. Mr. Weasley had floo called his son Bill, who Harry knew worked for Gringotts as a Curse Breaker. Bill had floo'd over to the Burrow and had briefed them for almost half an hour on what to expect when a letter from an Account Manager was received. He talked about how if you treated goblins with respect and courtesy, you would be treated the same. Wizards who claimed goblins were abrupt and discourteous in their actions were always rude and discourteous first.

And lastly, Bill said to treat the Account Managers time as valuable. It was a Goblin cultural trait, and they were brutal in assessing costs to wizards who deliberately wasted time attempting to prove how important they were.

Eyegouge led them around a corner and through an inconspicuous door, down a well lit hallway to a fancy carved door. After rapping on the door, Eyegouge opened it and gestured the two humans to follow him in. They entered a bright small sized office with a medium size desk with an impressive looking office chair. A trio of chairs were in front of the desk. Eyegouge was showing them to the two closest chairs the desk, when a door opened in the wall behind the desk and a young looking goblin who looked, if it was possible, meaner and nastier than Eyegouge entered.

"I am House Potter Junior Account Manager Bloodslash" he stated with a slight head nod.

Harry nodded slightly to the correct angle proper for greeting a Junior Account Manager as he had been shown by Bill last night.

"I am Harry Potter and this is my friend Hermione Granger", he stated.

Bloodslash nodded again, slightly deeper than Harry had and replied, "Indeed. You are both well known in Gringotts. In fact, infamously so." he said showing a fearsome amount of very sharp teeth in what Bill had said was the goblin version of a smile.

Harry was suddenly trying hard not to show how nervous he was becoming. Had the goblins reneged on their deal with the Ministry?

They had paid a nine thousand galleon fine, and had talked to only a few trusted people about the break-in. And the much more spectacular breakout. The only theft they had admitted being guilty of was stealing a dragon from Gringotts. Hence the reparation paid for the loss of the dragon. With the goblins seeming to want to confiscate all the gold in everyone's vaults and declare a blood feud against all three of the youngsters, admitting to stealing the Hufflepuff cup from the Lestrange vault had seemed to be a bad idea.

After all, even if the Helga Hufflepuff's Cup-made-Horcrux would have been an abomination to the goblins, wounded goblin pride meant a price had to be paid by someone.

Bloodslash waved an arm in a dismissive gesture. "That however is potion over the Thief's Downfall."

"What is important to Gringotts," he continued, "is why have you not replied to any of our letters sent to you these last seven years? We have had important business to conduct with you, and you have not entered our bank since your thirteenth year or answered any correspondence we sent. We specifically have needed to set meetings about your inheritances and your vaults. The need for consulting about your financial affairs has become urgent since you reached your age of majority last year."

Bloodslash's voice had become more strident and accusing the longer he spoke. He finished his near rant by leaning across the desk and glaring across the short distance separating him from Harry.

Still glaring, he virtually spat "Do you have any idea of the _untidiness_ of your accounts?"

Untidy. Harry didn't realize how the goblin had just viciously criticized him with _that_ pejorative.

Said to another goblin, that phrase would have led to blood being spilled in the Goblin Dueling Arena within the hour.

Harry sat in shock. Bill had prepared him for normal goblin treatment of wizards. In fact Harry had already gained some insight into goblin/wizard interactions from having dealt with the ultimately traitorous Griphook during the planning for breaking into Gringotts. But this was beyond normal.

Harrys shock was wearing off as his temper started to flare.

"It is difficult to respond to letters I've never received," Harry bit off. "Perhaps you should have tried harder to contact me if it was that important."

Bloodslash blinked twice. "No letters?"

"No."

"No notices of the will readings?"

"No."

"No statements about status of your vaults?" he said in a voice that was getting quieter by the word from before.

"None. What. So. Ever." Harry replied each word said distinctly in a flat voice.

Bloodslash abruptly sat down in his chair, and then just as suddenly stood up.

"Mr. Potter, excuse me for a few moments. I believe I should consult on your account with my superiors." And with that he turned and disappeared through the doorway behind the desk.

Harry and Hermione turned towards each other with identical looks of confusion growing on their faces.

Hermione started the silent conversation.

She quirked an eyebrow at Harry. (Well?)

Harry shrugged slightly. (No idea.)

Hermione twitched her lips on one side of her mouth, followed by narrowing her eyes and cocking her head. (Doesn't seem to be about the dragon. Why is Bloodslash so adamant about your ignoring them, the Goblins?)

Harry rolled his eyes extravagantly. (How should I know. I've never ignored them. Goblins are crazy.)

Hermione snorted, and broke into a giant smirk.

Harry raised both eyebrows and tilted his head. (What?)

Hermione broke the silence. "Only you Harry. Only you. Remember how Bill said that the way goblins treat blood supremacist wizards, really pisses off those wizards? Well, only Harry Potter could reverse that and drive goblins crazy."

They spent another minute quietly discussing theories why Harry never received any Gringotts correspondence. Hermione mentioned that she had received an Account of Vault Statement a couple of weeks ago on the vault set up by the Ministry for her War Hero account. Both teens were rapidly coming to the conclusion that the wizarding world had just produced another situation that the muggle-raised had no idea on how to respond to.

Another thing to think about, Harry steamed. He hadn't gotten a War Hero statement, and _he_ was Britain's Number One War Hero. Confusion be-damned. Somebody was going to start producing answers.

The rear door opened suddenly and Bloodslash re-appeared in company with and older and even meaner, uglier and really tough looking goblin. "Bloody hell," thought Harry. "Is it some kind of requirement that the higher the rank, the meaner looking goblins get?"

The older goblin walked around the desk and faced Harry.

"Heir Potter," he said in a voice like gravel being ground to dust. "I am Potter Senior Account Manager Halberdmaster."

Harry and Hermione stood and Harry quickly tried to re-call just what Bill had said about greeting Senior Managers. He hadn't paid much attention to that part of the tutoring because

he hadn't thought he would need to. He was only meeting a Junior Account Manager, right?

Bugger.

And why was he suddenly Heir Potter?

Halberdmaster then surprised Harry by bowing first. Bill had briefly touched on Senior Account Managers, and said they were as arrogant as a Malfoy, and as prideful as a Black. Harry bowed back, matching Halberdmaster's angle.

"Heir Potter," the grinding gravel sounded out. "Would you please follow me to my office? Due to the information you have just given Junior Account Manager Bloodslash, this discussion has escalated far beyond what I believed should be a simple meeting about the disposition of your Potter Educational Trust Vault."

Bloodslash opened the door as Halberdmaster, Harry and Hermione followed him out into a hallway, and almost immediately turned through a doorway into a large office with a large desk and several chairs. He gestured them into two of the chairs and circled around the desk to take his own seat. Chairs that were much more comfortable than those in Bloodslash's office.

Halberdmaster peered at the two teens, swiveling his chair slightly from side to side.

"Heir Potter, I want to talk to you for a few minutes about how Gringotts operates. I will not charge you for this time on your billing. Is this acceptable?" Halberdmaster stated.

Harry nodded in return. One of the effects of spending way too much time chasing horcruxes last year with a happiness sucking horcrux around your neck was too much time spendt thinking unhappy thoughts about your failures in life. Harry had come to the conclusion that one of his failures was his abysmal ignorance of the wizarding culture he had entered seven years ago. And his stupidity in not rectifying that ignorance. It had caused him no end of trouble.

"Senior Account Manager," said Harry, "please assume that I am totally ignorant of Gringotts, purebred wizarding culture and Ministry politics. Any enlightenment in those areas would be appreciated."

Without looking at her, Harry could feel Hermione's eyes boring through his skull as the long formal words rolled out of his mouth.

He started to turn to her, changed his mind, and returned his attention to Halberdmaster.

Steepling his inhumanly long fingers under his chin Halberdmaster started speaking. "I will not bore you with the history of Goblin-Wizard relations. I have been given to understand your Professor Binns has spent all your time in his classroom speaking of nothing except Goblin Rebellions."

The pair in front of him nodded their heads.

"We Goblins have grown from supplying underground vaults for storing wizards gold to what a muggleborn would call a full service financial institution. We now offer secure storage for wizard possessions, mortgages for houses and manors. Gringotts offers investment advice, along with access to muggle money and muggle banking institutions, rental property rent collection and property maintenance and other so called banking services."

He continued, "We have also in recent times have taken over what used to be Ministry functions. We are now the adjudicators of wills, inheritances and ancestry disputes."

And lastly, we are the final arbiter of whether you are actually dead or alive. Your Godfather should have told you that we at Gringotts still knew he was the Black Family Head of House despite everyone else in the wizarding world assuming he had be cast out of the family. Do you have any questions about what I have just stated?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other in jaw-dropped shock. This was definitely NOT on the Hogwarts curriculum.

Hermione found her voice first.

"Harry," she said, "this sounds like another of those wizarding world pieces of knowledge that is taught PureBloods before they even get to Hogwarts. Remember how Malfoy seemed to always be ahead of us in knowing how the Ministry would act? Remember how we used to thank Merlin that even with all his resources, he was such an idiot that most of his plans failed?"

Harry started nodding, then suddenly his face darkened. Hermione instantly knew he was remembering the ferrets largest plan that hadn't failed, and led to Dumbledore's death.

"Harry. HARRY! " she barked sharply, getting his attention on her instead of falling off his internal cliff of bad, bad memories.

Much more softly she spoke. "We have things to do today. We're too busy to have a day for regrets".

"She is correct, Heir Potter," came the Goblin voice from the other side of the desk. "You and I have much to do today and time is passing. I will add that you are now being charged for my time, so social niceties will have to be shortened."

Halberdmaster reached into several drawers in his desk and proceeded to take out several objects. A wide flat bowl, a large parchment, two large vials with silvery blue and dark, almost black, red liquid swirling in them, a golden stirring rod and a small silvery knife now sat on the desk. Halberdmaster proceeded to pour the vials into the bowl and mixed them using the stirring rod.

"Heir Potter, will you stand here, take the knife and cut the palm of your hand over the bowl. This is an important inheritance test so I need thirteen drops of blood dropped into the bowl."

Harry picked up the knife and after a small hesitation, sliced his palm open and dripped thirteen drops of blood into the bowl. As soon as the last drop of blood landed in the bowl, Harry's hand healed without any pain or scar. Halberdmaster then stirred the mixture smoothly.

Placing the parchment into the bowl, the goblin prodded it with the golden rod to make sure every part of the parchment was soaked by the fluid. As soon as the parchment had soaked up all the fluid, Halberdmaster placed it on his desktop and with a muttered incantation in gobbledygook, the parchment dried and Harry could see that it was covered with writing.

Halberdmaster grabbed another small scrap of parchment, scribbled on it and handed it to another goblin whom had entered the office in response to some type of summons that Harry had not seen performed. The goblin bowed shortly and left.

Halberdmaster leaned forward in his chair and spoke. "Heir Potter, I am going to shock the Goblin world and apologize for Gringotts treatment of you during your appointment today. We have been taking petty revenge upon someone whom we believed, for his own unfathomable reasons, was deliberately ignoring Gringotts and Goblin-kind, and flaunting that defiance of convention in our faces. And that is why I am offering an official Gringotts apology for having disrespected you by offering only a Junior Account Manager meeting. "

Harry could not help himself from looking at Hermione for some help in understanding just what the hell was happening here. Hermione while looking his way, was not looking him in the eye, which meant she was furiously analyzing the goblins statement.

"Harry," she said suddenly, "what vaults or accounts do you know you have here in Gringotts?"

"Just my Potter Education Trust Vault," he replied, "that I got gold out of every year. Hagrid told me that my parents had left me the gold before they were killed. After third year, Dumbledore gave Molly my key so she could get my school supplies. I haven't seen my vault since I was thirteen."

Hermione then said, "Why did Molly get the key to your vault instead of you coming to get it from your vault yourself?

"I dunno," said Harry. "Fourth year we were at the Word Cup. Fifth year Dumbledore told me the Death Eaters were after me and Diagon Alley was too dangerous. Sixth year was the same, especially after our little escapade in the Ministry of Magic. According to Dumbledore, my going out in public those years was same as a death sentence."

"Seventh year classes for us were abruptly cancelled, you may recall," he added drolly.

"Senior Account Manager, may I ask how many galleons Harrys vault contained when he was eleven?"

Halberdmaster looked at Harry who nodded to show that he should answer the question.

"Five hundred galleons"

"And before he visited when he was twelve?"

"Seven hundred galleons."

Harry could see the frown developing on Hermiones' face as the total did not show the withdrawal from the year before.

"Before Mrs. Weasley took money out when Harry was fourteen?"

"One thousand five hundred galleons".

Harry could swear Halberdmaster had suddenly developed a smug look on his face.

"Hermione," said Harry, "perhaps Halberdmaster would provide us with an explanation before your brain explodes."

Hermione huffed and pushed back in her chair. The unsaid sarcastic "Fine" was heard loud and clear by the other two.

"Miss Granger," the goblin said. "From your questions you seem to believe Heir Potter has only one vault at Gringotts. The vault he has seen is his Education Trust Vault, and was set up by his parents the day after his birth. For as long as Heir Potter is a student at Hogwarts, it is a vault that is re-filled the day of his birthday to the amount of several thousand galleons per year, depending on his age. That amount was to be his tuition and spending money, his allowance you might say, for that school year"

"Of course after he would reach his majority, he would have been allowed to draw money from the main Potter vaults."

The goblin paused for two heartbeats. "There are two of those. One for money and and one for family heirlooms and keepsakes."

Halberdmaster was starting to have trouble not guffawing at the expressions on the two faces in front of him. This was too delicious. Two wizards with vast confusion on their faces. What could be better? Well, maybe . . .

"Of course if you give me permission, since you are of age now, I can get your parents Will finally unsealed and we can all see just what your parents left to you."

The shocks just kept on coming. Harry was becoming so inured to the shocks his brain was actually able to start functioning again.

"My parents Will needs to be unsealed?" asked Harry. "Why would it be sealed? Did the Ministry screw me over again?"

Halberdmaster ground out his reply. "The Will was sealed by the Wizengamot at the instigation of Chief Warlock Dumbledore. What his motivation was, we do not know. However, now that you have reached your Majority and are Emancipated, a simple request from you to see the Will, can let it be read."

Halberdmaster leaned back in his chair and looked at Harry.

Harry finally caught on.

"Senior Account Manager Halberdmaster, I hereby request to be shown the last Will of my parents." Harry firmly stated.

Halberdmaster leaned forward and pushed something on his desk. Ten seconds later the goblin who had left before re-appeared through the rear door and placed several rolls of parchment on the desk. Halberdmaster sorted through them, placing them into two piles.

Halberdmaster unrolled two of the larger parchments.

"Both of your parents wrote Wills Heir Potter. Since your mother survived longer than your father, her Will is the controller of any and all bequests. As they are identical, I believe you should read hers first."

The goblin then passed one of the rolls of parchment to Harry.

Last Will of Lily Evans Potter

As Harry read he stated tearing up at actually seeing it written that his Godfather Sirius Black should have been his Guardian. Seeing that Neville's mother was his Godmother and might have been his Guardian started the memories flowing. Neville could have been his almost brother all those years. Those lonely, bitter, abusive years.

The final stab to the heart was the last sentence about baby Harrys' disposition.

"And under NO circumstances is my son Harry James Potter to be allowed to be raised by my sister Petunia Dursley. (nee Evans)"

That sentence stopped the forming tears as raging anger ripped through Harry. Throwing the parchment at Hermione, he started.

"THAT VILE OLD BARSTERD, THAT ROTTEN . . . . . Harry raged on for over two minutes calling Dumbledore every cursed, filthy name he could remember. Hermione just kept out of his way as he staggered around the office cursing. Halberdmaster just sat and watched. Heir Potter was paying for his time today, but this was unproductive.

Finally as Harry wound down, Hermione rose and grabbed him into a crushing hug. "Harry, it's over. He's dead and beyond our reach. Tomorrow we'll go to Hogwarts and spit on his grave. In fact while we are there, I'll turn my back and you can piss on it."

The sheer shock of hearing Hermione Jean Granger talk like that froze Harry. His mouth was moving, but no words emerged.

Halberdmaster would never betray a client's secrecy. But not regaling his peers about the last was going to kill him.

Hermione lead him over to his chair and sat him down. She went to her chair, picked up the Will and proceeded to read.

"Well Harry," she said. "The only part of the will that you will want to follow immediately is, "To my friend Remus J. Lupin I leave the sum of 20,000 Galleons." You could put it in a vault for Teddy's care with Andromeda Tonks."

Without looking up Harry spoke. "Halberdmaster, can I afford to double that amount and open a vault for my Godson Theodore Lupin, accessible by Andromeda Tonks?" The goblin took a parchment from his stack and handed it to Harry, who without even looking at it passed it over to Hermione.

Hermione felt the blood leave her head, and her hands started to tremble as she read the figures on the parchment. It was a Statement of Current Assets of House Potter.

Harry was Heir to slightly over four million galleons, another almost three million in family heirlooms as appraised, owner or part owner of about fifty businesses or properties, mostly in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, and had a slew of investments in the muggle world. His estimated annual income was,(gurk) slightly over four hundred thousand galleons per annum.

How she managed to speak so calmly, she never knew. "Yes Harry. You can afford to double the bequest to Teddy."

"Make it so, Senior Account Manager," stated Harry.

From Halberdmaster, "You do realize Heir Potter, that Madam Tonks is rather wealthy from her bequest from the then Lord Black? I realize you were not here for that Will Reading, so you do not know of Lord Sirius Orion Black's bequests."

"This is for my Godson, not her. Do it"

"Very well, Heir Potter."

Hermione figured everything else could wait.

Wrong.

"Now, Heir Potter it is time for you to become Lord Potter, Head of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter," said Halberdmaster producing another parchment from his desk.

"Wha . ."came from a startled Harry. "No, no, no. I'm just Harry."

"Wrong, Heir Potter. You are the last heir to a long and distinguished linage that goes back over fourteen hundred years to the time of King Arthur's Round Table. And even Goblins will admit that Potters have always fought on the side of Light and Justice. If you want to know more about your family history, I suggest getting either finding some family history books in your vault, your Manor or have Madam Tonks or Madam Longbottom tutor you."

"The most critical part of taking up your inheritance will be accepting the Potter Family Ring marking you as a worthy Lord of House Potter." At that, Halberdmaster handed a large ornate ring with a crest carved into its large red stone to Harry. The crest seemed to be a sword crossed by a wand over two rampant griffons.

"Slide it on your right middle finger."

Harry did so. The ring glowed with a flash of red and re-sized itself to fit his finger. "You have been accepted by the magics of the Potter House Ring. We will now finish the rest of the formalities. This is a Blood Quill. It is used in the most bi . .

"Are you crazy? Those things are torture instruments," roared Harry as he jumped out of his chair.

"My Lord Potter," ground out the goblin still unflinchingly seated in front of him. "I would like to know where you have been exposed to Blood Quills before? They are never to be used by anyone except Goblins for our most binding magical contracts. The last known use by a wizard was that vile witch Umbridge years ago. Apparently you were a victim?"

Harry angrily pushed his left sleeve back from his wrist and shoved it under Halberdmasters nose. "Yes," he bit off. I'm very familiar with Blood Quills," showing the still prominent scars that spelled "I must not tell lies" on the back of his hand.

"Ah, you are one of the victims from the Hogwarts Disgrace," said Halberdmaster calmly. "We all know where Umbridge is now. Would it help your anger to know what happened to the goblin who sold them to her? At Harry's curt nod he continued, "He was fed live to one of our dragons, his Head of Clan executed. His clan was fined ninety percent of their gold and his entire extended family was cast out of the clan and goblin society. I doubt if two of the family are left alive."

A shocked Harry sat back in his chair and looked over at a wide-eyed Hermione who spoke.

"A very goblin justice, Senior Account Manager."

She then settled back into her chair and looked right back at Harry.

"Suck it up Lord Potter," she said. "Let's get it done."

Again Harry's sense of the world was spinning. Hermione taking public satisfaction in bloody vengeance? What was next? Slytherin's playing fair?

Harry reached out, grabbed the offered parchments and started signing as Lord Harry James Potter where he was shown. When he was done, Halberdmaster handed him a wet cloth and told him to wipe the new bloody area. "It will take away the pain and any scarring that would occur," he said.

"The goblin leaned forward and spoke. "Lord Potter, we actually have much more to do."

He held up his hand. "However, I do not believe you need any more problems piled on you today. So, would you wish to press on with more dusty document reading, or go see your Family Vaults?

Harry had recovered from all his shocks by now and therefor could say Vaults with a straight face. Halberdmaster gathered up a pile of parchments on his desk, straightened them and passed the stack to Harry who promptly passed them to Hermione who placed them in her small, beaded purse.

"Very well. Lord Potter, we really must meet again next week. We have barely started to dig through everything you require for your new duties."

Harry let that ominous sounding proclamation slide.

"One last thing, my young Lord. Would you be willing to be offered some advice from your Senior Account Manager?"

Harry nodded,

"One, find a way to learn to control your anger. Too many people are dependent upon Lord Potter for their livelihoods for you to be controlled by your anger.

Two, study your family history, alliances and inheritances carefully. Knowing them can help you avoid many pitfalls.

Three, find someone to tutor you in Wizard Culture. As a Lord, you must be able to understand the motivations of your Peers. And lastly, have Bloodslash to set an appointment with the House Black Senior Account Manager. You have several duties that need your attention with him.

Harry was still contemplating Halberdmasters last words when Bloodslash entered the office and indicated the pair should follow him. He lead them down to the vault cart loading area and after they had seated themselves, started the cart down the rails.

"Harry," came Hermione's voice, "Is this going to be as bad as I think?

"Probably worse, Hermione."

With a Eeek she crushed in next to him, grabbing onto him for dear life. Harry, who had actually thought something akin to this might happen, smirked and put his arm around her waist, holding her to him tightly. "Just don't look. I'll keep you safe," he muttered.

Harry had always enjoyed the vault cart rides. And having a pretty girl clutching him as tightly as she was, he enjoyed this one hugely.

"We have arrived, Lord Potter," announced Bloodslash. "Vault 43. The House Potter money vault"

After he assisted Hermione out of the cart, Bloodslash had Harry place his Family Ring into one of the locks on the door. The ring glowed briefly and the door cracked open. Bloodslash finished opening the door wide.

Harry was stunned. He had thought the mounds of gold in his trust vault were spectacular. They were mere piles. The gold here was in great, shiny mountains. Lots of great, shiny mountains.

It was a short stay. After scooping handfuls of galleons into Harry's old, worn money bag and more into Hermione's expansion charmed little beaded purse, they exited the vault.

"Bloodslash, what are those large four-inch gold disks in the vault?

"They are ten galleon gold pieces. The bank does not make any larger coins due to excess bulkiness and weight. Any more gold and they would be hard to pick up or handle."

Hermione opened her mouth, but Bloodslash anticipated her. "No, we cannot put a feather weight charm on them as it would interfere with our anti-counterfeiting jinxes. And they are for vault use only to save some space and accounting time."

The trio walked thirty yards down slope to Vault 42. Again Harry's ring granted access.

"Bugger," thought Harry. "Look at all this stuff." He almost felt he had been apparated to the Room of Lost Things. Except nothing in here was dusty or broken. As they walked through the aisles they saw racks of weapons and armour, racks of stasis spell protected cloaks and fine dress robes. And enough furniture to outfit manors in fine wizarding style. There were chests with map drawers that had maps and building drawings. There were two dressers that had probably hundreds of pieces of jewelry and thousands of loose gem stones in their drawers.

Harry was feeling overwhelmed when he suddenly saw Hermione shift her walk into that of a predator on the hunt. Harry whipped around looking for a threat. Suddenly he almost hurt himself trying not to burst into laughter. Hermione had caught site of a dozen bookshelves filled with thousands of books and was stalking her lawful prey.

"Hermione," he called. "Do NOT try to read any of the books until you let me see them." Her glare of a huntress being denied her quarry was truly a look of promised violence.

"Think about it Hermione. I'll bet some of these books know if you are family and allowed to read them. I'll wager some of the curses are nasty to non-family."

A puzzled look came over her face. "Why would you say that Harry?"

"Because I can sense the ring telling me so," he replied. "Just put a dozen in a pile and I'll let you take them after I check them."

"A lousy dozen?" she wailed. "Potter, you rotten . . ."

"Relax Hermione. We'll be back next week."

That answer granted him a brilliant smile from his best friend.

"Well, stay outta my way. I've got work to do," she smirked back.

 **A/N**

 **In this story, One Galleon = 30 pounds,**

 **4 million galleons eq. 120,000,000 pounds.**

Lost control of the chapter. It was supposed to be only about

3K words because it is so clichéd.

Stupid hamster.

(I do not have a muse. I have a hamster who usually snores away

in the wood shavings of his cage, but, but sometimes he wakes up

and frantically starts running in his hamster wheel. That is when I am

compelled to write quickly. Keyboard challenged unfortunately.)


	4. Chapter 4

Granger, We Need to Talk

Chapter 4

Rebuilding Hogwarts:

The shattered towers whisper of endless woe

JK Rowling owns the rights to Harry Potter.

Sadly, I make no money from this.

I say sadly, 'cause I could use a new truck

It was the day after Harry's Gringotts visit. During Molly's usual fantastic breakfast, Harry had given a heavily censored version of the trip to Ron and Ginny. He told them the tale of the blood testing and the ring fitting and admitted to having become Lord Potter. When questioned about how fabulously wealthy he was, he merely said to ask their mother as she had seen his vault the last several years. Harry merely did not mention that she had only seen his Education Trust Vault. Today, he just did not want to aggravate the youngest Weasley's near poverty feelings. Hermione helped by supporting Harry's tale and charming several of the Potter books to look alike, so no one thought anything about her having a few new books. She was Hermione after all.

Ginny asked if he had a fabulous manor house just like the Harry Potter in all the Boy-Who-Lived books that she had grown up with. Harry could, sort of, honestly say he didn't know. Maybe he would find out next week. Actually one of the documents from Gringotts listed a Potter House in the Cotswalds. Maybe next week Harry could go see it.

After breakfast Hermione insisted they gather at the table to go over the notes she had made from McGonagall's visit a couple of days ago. Of all people, Ron was the one who wanted to talk about the task he had been given. His occasional mutters about coercion and compulsion hexes were ignored. Hermione got him to write a note to Neville explaining the work the Headmistress had given him and sent it off with his owl Pigwidgeon. The others mostly thought they would have to really see just how bad the destruction was. They knew the pitch was wrecked but had mostly seen just the damaged castle.

Next Hermione started on a list of changes to existing classes the quartet wanted. Sacking the ghost, Professor Binns, from his History of Magic post was a unanimous decision. When they started to get overwhelmed by Hermione's rapid fire listing of all the topics she wanted new in the class, the other three ganged up on her to stop. Harry halted the tirade when he brought up the point that a competent teacher's lesson plan would probably include most of her way of thinking. When she glared at him for interrupting her ranting,(she had been on a roll), he stared back until she huffed "Fine", and went to her next subject.

Muggle Studies had long been a target of Hermione's ire. It had been taught by a PureBlood professor, Charity Burbage, who talked about muggles as though they were merely particularly inventive pets. Her ideas of muggle technology were from a century ago. She had still thought horseless carriages were a new invention. Hermione had never liked her, but being killed by Voldemort and then eaten by his snake, . . .Brrrr.

Harry and her were going to have to continue this conversation in the coming days.

"Harry," Hermione said. "What about the obverse? A Wizarding Culture studies class for Muggleborns and muggle raised Halfbloods? Don't you think your life at Hogwarts might have been easier if you had some understanding of why the PureBloods often acted the way they did? I mean, you could have maybe talked to that arse Roger Davies or Mandy Brocklehurst, she was cute. Or maybe even Susan Bones…" Harry's eyes unfocused as he remembered Susan who had developed early, and at least to the male population of Hogwarts, spectacularly. Ginny and Hermione saw Harry's distraction. They both smirked and remembered just how half then boys at school had drooled over Susan's um . . assets.

A shared look and shrug and Hermione suddenly gestured with her hand. Harry's head rocked forward as though someone had slapped the back of his head. Harry looked up and around in confusion. Someone had just whacked him in the back of his head, yet there was no one there.

He looked around wildly. Ron looked confused, Ginny looked surprised and Hermione looked smug. Harry dived to his left off the chair and before he hit the floor an Aguamenti charm was spraying the area behind his previous seat, trying to reveal who had been behind him. Nothing occurred. Nothing was revealed. Harry started to jump up to start hexing everything in sight when Hermione burst out laughing, quickly followed by Ginny demanding, "How did you do that?"

While Harry and Ron looked confused, Ginny was fuming and Hermione looked insufferably smug. "Do not worry padwan, I will show you how to do it," Hermione smirked, looking at Ginny.

Harry had by this time replayed his memory and looked at Hermione with wonder in his eyes. "You did that wordless AND wandless? She just smiled beatifically at him.

"Harry, clean up your mess. Now, where were we . . ."

She continued on, "Harry, do you think Teddy's grandmother might teach it? It should be only once or twice a week. And First and maybe Second years"

"Andromeda Tonks? He replied. "I don't know."

"Well, it is something to think about, why don't you talk to her about it next time you go to see Teddy?" Hermione said as she moved on.

Continue Divination? All four did not think the subject was worth taking. Ever.

"What about a Life Studies or a cross between Home Budgeting and Economics, Cooking and Business Management class?" came from Harry. "I mean some sort of class that could teach cleaning spells, cooking with magic, reading a Gringotts statement, keeping the accounts of a business."

Ron gagged. "Only if you keep the girly stuff for the girls, mate."

"I mean, um . . look Ron. After school, unless you want to live with your Mum, you're going to want a small flat, right? Well, how are you going to clean it and feed yourself? Without spending a whole lot of galleons eating pub grub or at a restaurant all the time?"

Now it was Harry on a roll. "And what about maths? Unless you start Arithmancy in third year, most Muggleborns, and a lot of Halfbloods, have no more math classes after being ten years old. I'm not sure I can do division problems anymore. At least we should keep kids learning math up to geometry." Ron and Ginny missed understanding half the rant, but Hermione was once again caught by her forgetting the fact that very few Muggleborns, never mind wizards, would learn anything non-magical on their own.

Magic was a great tool for making wizards lazy.

"But, Harry," said a puzzled Ginny, "Mum has kept teaching us maths during summer hols, and I know a bunch of cleaning and cooking spells she taught me.

Hermione's brain had finally re-booted. "Yes, Ginny. YOU know these spells, but I'll bet Ron doesn't know them, does he? Think about how his room looks and then think about him trying to cook for himself."

Ginny shuddered.

"PureBloods need not apply. They believe they will always have house elves."

"Oi!," said Ron "Elf-less PureBlood here!"

"The Crown rests its case."

"We will get McGonagall to look into that," Hermione said as she wrote on her list. In the part of her brain not on automatic, she was chastising herself for being surprised at Harry's argument. "You keep forgetting he is actually very intelligent, you nitwit. When he concentrates on a problem, he usually solves it. Quit acting like you're the only smart person here!"

Any other ideas on classes?" Hermione asked. Head shakes and shrugs greeted the question. "Alright, what about social stuff?"

Ron tentatively put up his hand. "What about a Chess club? Or Gobstones? Or an Exploding Snap club?"

Everyone nodded at those suggestions. After all the school only sponsored Quidditch and the Toad Choir. That meant a huge majority of the students had no social interaction outside of their house mates.

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other.

"Dances." As Harry and Ron looked at them with growing horror, the two girls promptly agreed on a minimum of two formal dances each year.

"Maybe we'll make one of them a Girl Invites Boy dance. Wouldn't that be interesting," Ginny mused.

The growing horror on Harry and Ron's faces burst into full-fledged terror.

Catching the look of their faces from the corners of their eyes, the two witches resolutely managed to keep from exploding into laughter.

"Why, yes," drawled Hermione, carefully not looking at Ginny's dancing eyes. "A formal wizard ball like we had in fourth year, with an end of school year muggle-style school girls ask boys dance."

"That sounds excellent," stated a slightly gasping Ginny as she fought her laughter, ignoring the choking noises coming from the two young men.

It was almost a minute before Hermione able to continue with a straight face.

"What about some muggle sports like football or rugby clubs?" Hermione followed with. "I mean some of those would be familiar to Muggleborns and could show wizards that muggles have exciting sports also."

Harry shook his head no.

"Brooms and training make women equal to men in Quidditch. Women would be crushed on a football pitch, and with only thirty-five or so men in a House, trying to find eleven or more players for a club team?" Harry just shook his head again.

"You know," said Ginny. "I was going to suggest a Dueling Club. But I think Harry is right. I've collected enough scars. However, maybe those who haven't been scared out of their minds from dodging AK's and Crucio's might find it useful for DADA or just fun. Too bad, it would be fun to watch Luna mop the deck of the Dueling Stage with Harry."

Three sets of eyes goggled at Ginny, who giggled.

"Give me decent odds in a structured formal duel, and I would put some sickles on her. She's fast, sneaky and inventive. Before she was kidnapped, she was the unofficial dueling champion of the DA in the Room of Requirement. You might win by sheer power, Harry, but you'd have to work hard."

Harry's eyes widened bit but he said nothing. Being her boyfriend in Sixth Year had taught him that Ginny was smart and very observant. AND, Luna had not only escaped serious injury at the Department of Mysteries battle, she had survived dueling with Bellatrix at the final battle.

Hermione finally paused in scribbling her notes. "I have some questions for the Headmistress about . . . ."

They talked another couple of hours, and finally stopped when a Hogwarts owl from Headmistress McGonagall and Neville's owl both arrived. McGonagall asked them to arrive at the castle at ten o'clock next morning, and Neville wanted to meet Ron at the destroyed Quidditch pitch at the same time.

Nobody mentioned out loud that the last three days had heard laughter in the Burrow for the first time in months.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

(This site trashed my original scene separation icons)

The three adolescents started ascending the hill to Hogwarts from the fireplace of The Three Broomsticks in the early morning sunshine. Their first view of the wrecked castle was depressing. Most of the towers were still probing the sky as jagged ruins. The tremendous front doors were still in shattered pieces. So little existed of the greenhouses that none of them could believe they would be ready for school in September. Their first impression had been depressing. The closer examination was worse. Gouges and burn marks were everywhere on the castle walls. Windows? There were no windows. Only bare openings.

A wooden construct of some sort drew their attention off to the right of the main entrance. First was a windmill down off the entrance. There seemed to be a short ramp leading down to a pile of rocks at near the windmill. As they watched, a group of goblins dumped a cart of rubble down the ramp to where at the end another group of goblins was gathered around doing something incomprehensible.

"Oh, Merlin," breathed Hermione, tears welling in her eyes, "they're still cleaning up the mess."

The goblins then took the same cart over to a platform at the end of the other ramp. Both Harry and Hermione recognized the second 'ramp' as a conveyer. The belt moved slowly, from the bottom near the windmill, to the platform near the entrance. Goblin muscles loaded several trimmed blocks of masonry onto the cart and the group started pulling and pushing the cart into the entrance.

Following the cart, the teens were surprised to be stopped by a group of goblin guards similar to those they had seen at Gringotts. The goblins had started to ask the teens to state their business when Headmistress McGonagall appeared just inside the entryway.

"Mr. Weasley. Why don't you go around to the greenhouse area and gather up Mr. Longbottom and the two of you can start planning on fixing our quidditch pitch"

With a nod to everybody, Ron headed off around to the side of the castle. The other three stood looking at each other and McGonagall.

"As you can see, not only wizards are working on our Hogwarts. We have hired Goblin guardians at the castle and Centaurs have been _gifted_ appropriately to patrol the approaches and the Forbidden Forest."

She led them into a classroom on the second floor and had everyone seat themselves at the only table there.

Harry sagged. Fortunately the memories were bad, yet, not crushing here. In the Great Hall where the Last Battle had been fought . . .

He was brought out of his funk by McGonagall asking Hermione for their suggestions.

She spent several minutes reading the parchments before speaking.

"Excellent work as I expected from the three of you. Most of the class suggestions I believe I can get through the Board of Governors now that Albus, any Death Eaters, and their allies, are no longer on the Board. I also see no reason why we cannot have more student clubs."

"I agree with taking the Eighth Years out of their houses and putting them in a separate House. Also that they should have their own table here in the Great Hall . . Excellent. That should provide some mingling of those who will be graduating this year."

"I am interested in this Common Table where anybody can sit except at formal feasts. And a Veterans Table? Just how many tables do you intend to fracture us into?"

Harry and Hermione both looked at Ginny, who had suggested the Veterans Table.

"Headmistress, I believe that the veterans of The Battle here will be badgered enough by the younger kids to tell them tales of the War. Now, just like Harry, I am not going to talk about the battle with the Death Eaters or Bellatrix Lestrange with those who were not there. I am not going to talk with the ignorant about Colin Creevy or a wounded little girl I tried to help whose name I never did learn." Tears welled in Ginny's eyes. "I never learned her name and I don't even know if she lived or died," she ended with a sob.

Hermione leaned over and gathered Ginny in a one-armed hug. Ginny fought for control and beat her sobs down to sniffles. A transfigured handkerchief for her to blow her nose in, and Ginny started again. "Those of us who survived from Dumbledore's Army should have a place where we can have a quiet word with each other or just not be bothered by others. My tolerance of my fellow students who are arseholes" . . "Language Miss Weasley!" . . . is very low, and I learned some really nasty hexes and jinxes this last year."

"Oh, come now Miss Weasley, surely your fellow students would never bother you that way. I'm sure you are over reacting."

Ginny's glare may not have intimidated McGonagall, but it did make her wonder if her pronouncement was right.

"Headmistress, have you EVER had to put up with Zacharias Smith or Serafina Mulciber when they are feeling mean and untouchable? If they start being prats, Madame Pomfrey is going to have them in her ward for weeks. And as for some of the Death Eater children whose parents died, they'll be positively homicidal." Ginny looked thoughtful for a second. "Or suicidal. As soon as they touch a wand in a hallway, many from the DA will probably kill the willing torturers from last year. It would be wise to not let them attend this year."

Ginny had started her rant glaring at McGonagall. By the time she was finished, her usually warm brown eyes were as flat and deadly looking as a cobras.

McGonagall was momentarily speechless. She had wanted some student input, but listening to Ginny, and then seeing Harry and Hermione nodding their heads in agreement!

This was shocking.

Just as shocking, was that neither of the two students Ginny named had been Slytherins!

Had she been so fixated on repairing the school she had ignored what would be massive changes in the returning students?

Her three young Lions sat quietly, watching her politely, waiting for her to TRY to come to grips with what they considered The New Reality. They had paid for it in blood and the rest of wizarding Britain was going to start learning that soon.

Headmistress McGonagall eyes were just starting to re-focus again when Ginny spoke.

"You might want to consider that the Veteran's might need _their own House._ I would guess that a lot of us will last about a month in our old House what with missing friends and comrades and other ghosts from the last year. I'm not sure how many will be able to put up with hijinks of the young, untouched kids. Just because we've become old and twitchy, we should try not to take it out on the young'uns. We fought so they could have a chance act like kids"

Hermione added her voice to Ginny's. "And these changes are not permanent. The Eighth Years and the Seventh Year veterans will be graduated come spring. There were very few Fifth Years who fought. And fewer who lived. So there will be very few Sixth Year veterans attending this year or next."

McGonagall was silent for a minute.

"Very well," she stated. "Let's go and see what will be your new quarters for the school year."

With that they all arose and followed McGonagall to the Grand Staircase where none of the staircases were moving. Up to a third floor corridor that was suddenly very familiar to Harry and Hermione.

"Did we just pass Fluffy's room?" she whispered to Harry

"Yep."

Further down, the headmistress stopped and threw open the second door.

"This is to be the new Eighth Year House area," she proclaimed.

The place was a wreck.

Not from battle damage, just a wreck from disuse and abandonment. For some reason, the fighting had not reached here.

"Remember when I said I needed your help because you are skilled, powerful magic users? This is one of the reasons why. I need this place built, and where it cannot be built, I need it transfigured into a common room, library, bathrooms and sleeping quarters for the eighth year students. With all the furnishings couches, curtains and beds, students have come to expect in your House. I have had the goblins make a set of plans for you to follow for the rooms. I will have a goblin sent to teach you and guide you on how to do the work."

"I will also personally tutor you, and some others, in transfiguration so your transfigured items do not regress to their original state before the year is out.

Hermione out of sheer habit raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Headmistress, why us? I mean why not dwarves or goblins who are used to working with stone? And what about th . . ."

"Enough, Miss Granger. One, there is not enough money left in the budget to pay for an Eighth Year dormitory that will be used only one school year. Two, all the materials you need will be supplied and how to use the materials taught to you. And you three will not be alone. There are other Eighth Years who I plan on adding to your work crew."

Ginny could not help herself either. She raised her hand. "Miss Weasley?"

"Umm . . . I'm only a Seventh Year. Why am I here?"

"Which part of skilled, powerful, intelligent witch do you not understand, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny blushed redder then a ripe tomato. She couldn't meet anyone's eye. Harry and Hermione traded huge smirks. This was teasing fodder good for the whole year.

"Besides," McGonagall continued in a soft voice. "I have just decided that if your fears of problems with some of the returning veteran seventh years are correct, we will need a leader among them to make a new House complex."

The now brisk voiced Headmistress went on. "I need a week to get the plans done, instructors ready and materials ordered. I will see you eight days from today. Bringing old clothes would be an excellent idea. Any other questions?"

Harry started to speak and thought better of it. He would talk to McGonagall about his Lordship problems later.

oooooo vvvvvv ooooo

After the headmistress had left, the three teenagers stood around and briefly started talking about what spells they might need to do the work. Harry actually started talking about muggle tools that could be used to save a lot of magical energy. When asked by Ginny why use shovels or heelyburrows, "WheelBARROWS Ginny" when a levitation charm would work, he responded.

"We are going to be using a LOT of magical energy to fix all this. Transfiguration is about concentration, intent and power. Personally, I would hate to have my bed change back into a busted desk some night because our magical cores were too depleted to power the transfiguration properly."

Hermione's was stunned. It took a moment but she squealed and snatched Harry into one of her typical rib creaking hugs. "Y . . You . . You got it! Oh, Harry, I'm so proud."

"Uh, Hermione, I kinda got it in the tent last year. Remember trying to survive red-eyed, snaky, evil monster guy?"

Hermione was stricken. "Oh Harry. I'm so sorry. I . . ."

"Relax Hermione. You probably won't live here anyway."

Hermione jerked out of her hug to stare at Harry so hard he involuntarily moved back a few inches.

He smiled rather sadly. "Remember, the Head Girl and Head Boy have their own quarters up on fourth floor. And I mean, who else are they going to pick for Head Girl?"

Hermione was surprised at how fast her eyes welled up when she thought of not being near Harry and Ron this school year. She must have looked stunned because Ginny moved until she gathered Hermione in a hug of her own that was joined by Harry.

"Don't look so unhappy Hermione. We'll only be a floor away."

Harry looked around. "Hermione, break out some note paper. I will bet a galleon to two sickles that the planner for this living area gets it wrong. We're going to need more common and study room area than anyone else will plan for. Additionally . . ."

Some exploring along the rest of the corridor was done, but the detritus was the same in the other five doors. Opening the door that three-headed Fluffy had been behind showed the room still had the trap door in the floor. Harry went to open the trap door but it was locked. Hermione whipped out her wand and started casting over the door, stared at it for a moment and then swirled and poked her wand while muttering to herself. The door literally popped upright. When the other two looked at her with raised eyebrows, she smirked and said, "Remember trying to learn stuff so we could survive red-eyed, snaky, evil monster guy?"

Harry stuck out his tongue at her.

Looking down they could faintly see to the floor the Devils Snare had dropped them on. It had seemed a lot further years ago.

Visiting the room brought on a running reminiscence of the Philosophers Stone tale alternately told by the duo while they all walked out of the castle and over to the quidditch pitch. Ginny was doing her best not to gasp or squeal as she did not want them to stop talking about one of the great mysteries of Hogwarts. Everyone knew what had happened, yet no one knew what had happened.

The Golden Trio had never talked about their first great adventure. And how it became the glue that held them together through the stresses and strains of bossy swot brainiacs, angsty teenage jealousies and much sheer idiocy.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Seeing the Quidditch pitch from afar had not prepared them for the destruction of the pitch and spectator stands. The stands had been built from great baulks of timber over almost a millennia, and had burned long and hot, leaving great piles of ash and charcoaled wood. The great metal scoring hoops lay across piles of their burnt posts. The fire had been so hot some of the golden metal had warped and twisted. Anything taller than the uncut grass in the middle of the pitch was consumed by fire and was useless.

They found Ron near what had been the faculty and distinguished visitor stands looking at a hole in the ground. The hole was about ten feet across and five or so feet deep. The dirt from it had been piled off to the side. Harry could see a line along the sides of the hole about a foot deep where the dark fused looking soil gave way to normal looking dirt. Looking around the pitch he saw other piles of dirt near where the stands had been.

"Hello there Nev," said Harry quietly. "How have you been?"

The group had not seen Neville Longbottom since the funeral for Vergilia McClain, a Hufflepuff sixth year Neville had known who was killed in The Battle. It was still a minor surprise to see the tall, fit, confident man who had replaced the somewhat pudgy, painfully shy boy the trio had known for so many years. Ginny and Neville had written a few short letters to each other this summer, but that had been all the contact they had.

"About the same as you guys I imagine. I've been helping Professor Sprout with the plants from the wrecked greenhouses. We've been trying to keep as many plants alive as we can for class use next term."

"So, you gonna be able to help Ron with his little project?"

Ron snorted. "I've been jobbed by McGonagall, mate. This is going to be bloody . .

" Language.!" . . . well impossible."

He pointed at a nearby pile of wood ash. "Neville says he doesn't think we can find wood of the proper size in Britain to replace the stands. Any forest that has the type of wood we need is an ancient forest that is protected against us cutting trees down. Most of the wood in the stands were huge baulks of oak. There's none that size available in the country."

"I also have no idea where to get poles tall enough to put the hoops on. No idea how to replace the bent hoops, or how to put them on top of the poles."

"AND Neville tells me the soil is so badly damaged from the fire it can't grow grass." Pointing at the side of the hole, his face a mask of defeat, Ron continued. "See where it's discolored? I have to get rid of that top burned shite, bring in new dirt and plant grass before summer ends."

His shoulders somehow slumped even further. "I'm so buggered."

All five young adults gazed out over the destruction. Not one of them had any idea how to help Ron.

Hermione broke the silence. "I vote we go down to The Three Broomsticks, have some lunch, a few butterbeers and since not one of us has," she took a deep breath, "a sodding clue what to do next, let's figure who we _know_ that might have that sodding clue."

The other four were so shocked by her language they looked at each other wide eyed, shrugged, turned and followed her towards Hogsmeade.

Harry wasn't sure if Ron realized that Hermione Jean Granger had just committed her formidable mind to making damn sure Ronald Bilius Weasley succeeded in fixing the Hogwarts Quidditch Stadium. And woe and suffering would be visited upon those who tried to prevent that success.

Including Ron.

 **A/N**

Every story I have read about the school year after The Battle either merely

has the students on rubble removal, or the whole problem is magically

glossed over. My AU does not work that way. Sorry if it bores you.

For McGonagall, the New Reality shocks will keep on arriving.

Will be traveling hard next week. The next update may be a few days late.


	5. Chapter 5, Gringotts again

GRANGER, WE NEED TO TALK

Chapter 5

All rights to Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling

No money for me (Sad sniff)

 **Author Rant:**

 **My apologies to the readers of this story. My editing skills after**

 **a chapter has been posted are abysmal.**

 **While my .docx looks quite presentable in Word on my PC, it looks**

 **like crap after the site gets done "editing" it.**

 **I will try to develop better site editing skills to make reading**

 **easier. Please bear with me.**

 **Also I'm in `lack of WiFi' hell for the last two weeks, and will be for**

 **the next three weeks.**

 **Chap 6 may be delayed.**

Return to Gringots

June 27, 1998

The days were passing in a blur.

Two days ago, Harry had spent the day at Gringotts trying to get a grasp on the extent of what he was quickly thinking of as his "drown him in tentacles" empire.

First, the Black Senior Account Manager, Reaverfromshadow, had performed the blood right and ring rituals that officially made him Lord Black. Then, Harry was handed a sheaf of parchments that showed him his accounts status. Harry was then shown Sirius' Will. He now owned half-a-dozen more properties, including 12 Grimmauld Place, more investments than any sane person would want to attempt to keep track of, and from looking at the account summery, he had gained another gazillion galleons. He saw that Sirius had reinstated Andromeda Tonks as a Black Family member with a one million galleon bequest.

"Hmpf," Harry thought. "Halberdmaster had been right. She really didn't need the galleons he had added to her vault. Maybe I should talk to her about him setting up Teddy's Educational Trust Fund Account as a good godfather should."

Sirius had also wanted him to annul his cousin Narcissa Black's marriage to Lucius Malfoy and restore her as a member of the Black family with another half million galleon bequest. Sirius said this could be done as the marriage contract had specifically stated Lucius would not become a proven follower of anyone who attacked Lord Black or the Black family. In a way, the request was moot as Lucius and Draco had both died when the mark Voldemort had placed on his Death Eaters had activated as a killing curse upon his death.

Lastly he was to cast Bellatrix Lestrange, nee Black, out of the Black family so as to remove forever any possibility of any Lestrange's having a claim on the Black fortune. With coaching from Reaverfromshadow, Harry completed both tasks.

"Senior Account Manager," asked Harry, "if it does not violate any Gringotts confidentially, may I ask if the Widow Malfoy was going to actually need the bequest as the Malfoy fortune was supposed to be huge."

Reaverfromshadow stared at Harry for a few moments. "As her Lord Black, her Head of House, her Head of Family, you have large latitude in seeing any financial transactions that are arranged through the Black family vaults. As your Senior Account Manager, I can tell you that it is the Ministry's intent to strip away the Malfoy assets down to the curtain rods in their mansion. I will also state that she would be a fine asset in instructing you in wizarding politics at the highest level. And if I may be so bold, you are going to need all the instruction possible to keep what you and yours earned in battle before those who quietly backed Voldemort steal it all back. Her oaths to you as her Lord will keep her from any betrayal."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose while gathering his thoughts. "Very well Senior Account Manager, contact Narcissa Black, inform her of her new status. She is to meet me here tomorrow to give her Family oaths to me. I will contact Andromeda Tonks about the meeting and the new status of her sister."

A quiet lunch under a glamour charm had slowed down Harry's whirling thoughts enough that he believed he was ready to deal with Halberdmaster.

Wrong.

The afternoon had turned into an Only Happen to Harry Nightmare. Of course, because he was Fate's Bitch, it was normal that she would she bugger him _again._

Harry somehow could tell that Halberdmaster had bad news for him. The goblin had without emotion told Harry that the inheritance test from earlier had shown he was the Heir to two more Ancient or Noble Lordships. Harry closed his eyes. He was beyond ranting and raving about Fate and Normal. He had quietly said "Oh, shite" and then calmly asked which two Lordships he had now become responsible for. Halberdmaster then told him Lord Peverell by inheritance and Slytherin by Right of Conquest. "Conquest?" he had asked. Halberdmaster had told Harry he had disembodied the last claimant in 1981, 1992 and 1993. And the ritual that had returned him to a body in 1995 had destroyed the Slytherin bloodline in him from Merope Gaunt completely, hence Lordship by conquest. The final death Harry had performed on Voldemort in the Final Battle was actually irrelevant to the Right of Conquest.

"What do you know of the Peverell's?" Harry had asked. He asked as a bit of a smoke screen. He figured he knew as much about the Peverell's as anyone. And he did not want anyone getting enough information to connect the dots.

"They were a prominent family that passed into history with no male issue three hundred and sixty-three years ago," answered Halberdmaster. "Apparently, your grandfather Potter was descended from them through several lines of females through the years. If your father had lived long enough to settle into his titles, he would have become Lord Peverell. Now it has passed to you."

"How soon do I have to decide whether I want to become all these Lords?" Harry asked.

"You have until your twenty-fifth birthday. However as your Senior Account Manager, I would strongly urge you to take up your Lordships as soon as possible due to the influence they will give you in the Wizengamot. The forces that are stirring in that body are still too disorganized to threaten you and yours _yet._ At the moment, the old controlling families of British wizard-kind have lost too many family members, or too many allied members to restart a PureBlood campaign against the changes you plan to bring to the wizarding world."

"But they are gathering," he finished.

"We have two more items on our agenda for today, Lord Potter." Halberdmaster remorselessly continued. "One you will not like at all. The other item, well, as you are now an adult, you must take on adult responsibilities."

"First. Due to the large number of deaths among the followers of Voldemort, there are seven salic primogeniture (1) old wizarding families that have no male descendants left to take up their Lordship duties. Their deaths were tied to your killing of either them or their heirs directly, or their death due to the curse on their Dark Marks that was activated by Voldemort's death by your wand. There are four non-Noble Houses where you personally killed the Head who was a marked follower of Voldemort. Either way, under the Laws of the Wizengamot, we believe you may now claim all of their Lordships, their assets, properties and their chattels."

Harry sat frozen in his chair. _Eleven_ sodding Lordships? He would never be able to cope. Even sitting down, his vision started to go grey. This was beyond cursing or ranting. This was beyond sanity.

After watching Harry for a few more seconds, Halberdmaster spoke again.

"Fortunately Lord Potter, you have two ways out of this dilemma. Might I make the assumption you would want to hear about them?"

The barsted was smiling so hard Harry could see his back effing teeth. Harry didn't trust his voice at the moment so he merely nodded his head for Halberdmaster to continue.

After the long explanation of how Harry could survive all the Right of Conquest responsibility that had been dumped on him, the rest of the afternoon was devoted to his second duty. Reading about Potter House, and other smaller houses and cottages. Rental properties in Diagon Alley and magical villages through out Britain, and even the world. Business' his family owned, controlled or had an interest in. People who still corresponded with his account managers at Gringotts and were now sending queries to the new Lord Potter for advice, or business decisions to get around the account managers. Or in a few instances, vainglorious flattery letters obviously trying to promote themselves.

Compared to all the crap from earlier in the day it was almost relaxing.

Next day, Harry was sitting in an elegant meeting room in Gringotts with Andromeda Black, Reaverfromshadow and some un-named goblin assistant, gratefully drinking a large cup of strong Darjeeling tea when Narcissa Malfoy elegantly stepped through the doorway.

Harry stood from his place at the head of the table and walked over to her.

"Lady Malfoy," he murmured brushing his lips near her gracefully extended hand. "Allow me first to state that while I would have killed your husband and considered the world better off for it, I am sorry over the loss of your son. He had seen enough of true evil to regret having joined Voldemort. Add your personal bravery in the Forbidden Forest, with my belief he had become a changed man, he did not deserve what happened."

Narcissa looked back at him, willing the tears not to fall by sheer force of will.

Andromeda then stood and joined them.

"I have missed you Cissy," she said drawing her sister into a hug.

"Oh, Andi, me too!" And the dams broke as both women dissolved into long suppressed tears.

When the emotions had subsided, the women had turned their backs to repair the damage before sitting back at the table. The sisters gave their Black Family Oath of Fealty to their Lord Black.

Harry had been surprised at how complete it was in respect to how whomever had written the oath, had wanted to make very, very sure there would be no harm offered to The Lord Black, either through any action or inaction, or knowledge of any contemplated harm.

He had only the vaguest idea what the words in the ancient language he read over them after they gave their part of the oath, but Reaverfromshadow stated that the penalties for oath breaking were `very Goblin and very nasty'.

He spent the next hour signing parchment making Andromeda and Narcissa's new status official. Then more signing and oaths as Andromeda was named as the Potter Proxy and Narcissa as the Black Proxy in the Wizengamot. This was important as the votes Harry now controlled in the Wizengamot were significant. As Lord Potter, Head of a Most Ancient and Most Noble House, he had control of four votes. Same with being Lord Black. The votes each Lord had in the Wizengamot were apportioned by one vote each for the word Ancient or Noble in the formal House name and on vote for any Most that preceded Ancient or Noble. It was with vast relief Harry finally was able to sit and have a talk with Andromeda and Narcissa about what was happening in the Wizengamot lately. Harry controlled eight votes out of eighty-eight votes in that body and wanted the politically experienced Black sisters to make his votes useful.

Most of the meeting was occupied with a quick strategy session to delay the usual summer solstice meeting of the Wizengamot so that body could not pass any resolutions that would interfere with the plans a foot to claim all the Lordships and Heads of House that Harry wanted

He also wanted to know if anyone was making overtures of alliance or common cause or frankly anything of a helpful nature. Particularly if he knew any of the children at Hogwarts. Were any of them now orphans? Were any of his Right of Conquest families about to do something stupid because they had no gold left?

It was not until he was trying to fall asleep that night it connected for him. How had Bellatrix been able to kill Sirius as Lord Black if The Oath was so comprehensive?

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

It was two days after Harry's Traumatization by Lordship Over-dose.

Ginny was again at Luna's practicing transfiguration with her friend. She told the rest that she was, by Morgana's torn underwear, not going to be the weak link in all the work McGonagall wanted. She had been returning home for dinner exhausted, barely able to finish dinner. When Molly scolded her for "working yourself to death," Ginny tiredly chuckled and told her what she was doing was only tiring, not dangerous, and it was for McGonagall.

Hermione had spent the previous two days when not researching the Right of Conquest, writing letters to every professional Quidditch team in the country, all four of the Head of Maintenance wizards at the four full sized Match stadiums, (2) and had flat out browbeaten Harry into providing three hundred galleons (3) for some use she had in mind.

Ron had just discovered his version of Nirvana.

He was at the Wimbourne Wasps home practice field talking with the Head Maintenance wizard about grass, scoring hoops and their seating for fans during their small local matches.

And if the owls delivering replies to the missives sent by,

Respectfully,

Miss Hermione Granger,

by direction of Minerva McGonagall,

Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

were any indication, Ron was going to be away from The Burrow for a while. Half the practice fields, including the Chudley Cannons, and all four of the Professional Quidditch League Official Match Stadiums had set up times when Ron could floo to them to consult (Hermione relentlessly drilled Ron to learn and use that term) on how the patrons seating had been constructed, how it was magically transformed if expansion for a particularly popular match was needed, how the goals had been erected and how the grass was maintained..

But today Harry had dragged her with her into a session of trying to figure out if some loans and rents that had not been being paid, and had apparently become overdue, were him being cheated, or was it more subtle. Perhaps a bribe or, a payoff or, legitimately, start-up money to a business that was never meant to be paid back in coin. Some of the _stuff_ , as Harry thought of it, went back to his grandparents.

Halberdmaster was praying to his gods that it was cheating because then he could start stripping assets from _other_ Account Managers and bring all those magnificent galleons under his control.

Soon, Hermione, Halberdmaster and Bloodslash were practically cackling with glee.

Harry was not.

At first Halberdmaster, and more so Bloodslash, had shown resentment at Harry's inclusion of Hermione's input on every account or business decision. But as her ability to pull together seemingly unconnected parts of Harry's untidiness into a coherent, it-adds-up explanation, the goblins started feeding more and more direct information to her.

The four of them were working at a huge table in the Senior Account Manager's office. Parchment rolls, thick account books, quills, pens and abaci littered its surface. Having Lord Potter at hand to make decisions, and having "Mistress Granger", who was a demoness for ripping through parchmentwork, slashing her way through said parchmentwork was almost exhilarating for the goblins. The _untidiness_ of Lord Potter's accounts was being rectified at dizzying speed.

Harry looked for what he was told to look for, signed where signing was indicated, and made the vow that the next being who caused him any more trouble from account _untidiness_ was going to be dropped from a broom into what was left of the acromantula colony deep in the Forbidden Forest.

Harry only lasted five hours of adding columns of figures and searching through the dusty records. His head was splitting.

"Hermione, I'm done for the day."

It took a moment for Hermione to shift mental gears from the twenty year old accounts book in front of her. She had been in her element. A glorious world of facts and figures that she was dragging from darkest chaos into regimented order. It gave her a feeling of euphoria.

However, all good drug highs must end.

She turned her attention to Harry.

Harry looked over at his Senior Account Manager. "Halberdmaster, I am through for the day. Would you get me a port key for Potter House please? Hermione, let's get a pain potion for my head, some lunch for my stomach, and go take a look at my house."

"Very well, Lord Potter," replied Halberdmaster. "It will take about ten minutes to get a port key to you." As Bloodslash left the room, he leaned back in his chair. "We made great progress with your accounts today. A lot was due thanks to Mistress Granger whom I will hire in a five chambered heart beat if she ever wishes to work at Gringotts." Hermione managed to thank him as her cheeks blushed pink.

" Bloodslash and I will finish your Potter account tonight."

Halberdmaster's voice was so pleasant Harry blanched.

"Oh, shitte. Here comes the . . ."

The Senior Account Manager kept sounding pleasant as he continued. "In two days we will have to start planning on what to do with the assets of the former Death Eater families that are now yours by Right of Conquest as we discussed two days ago. We are starting to get pressed for time if we are to keep the PureBloods of the Wizengamot from passing laws to block your claim, and we are getting hard-pressed by those scurrilous dogs at the Ministry who want to take the assets those who were defeated from you, and give them to themselves with some leftovers for the Ministry."

"As I informed you, Lord Potter is responsible for many people now."

Harry knew that Halberdmaster was smiling. The barsted. That horrible baring of teeth could be nothing else. As far as Harry was concerned, the goblin had a very sick sense of humor.

His headache bloomed rapidly

Port key in hand the duo walked down Diagon Alley to R. Johnson's Fish & Chips for lunch. At the look Hermione gave him for ordering a double portion, he rejoined, "No, I'm not channeling Ron. It's comfort food. I'm stressed. Pass the lemon."

The two of then, as they had done before, fell to talking about what they would find at Potter House. Harry maintained that house meant something maybe double or triple the size of The Burrow, as that or huge mansions like Grimmauld Place, were all he was familiar with in the wizarding world. Hermione mostly went along with Harry's musings even though she did not agree with him. She had seen not only his current worth at Gringotts, but his family's historical finances also. She thought Harry was in for a shock.

Both teens were trying not to rush lunch due to eagerness to see just what Potter House looked like. It was a gallant effort, but all too soon they were standing at a designated apparition point in a side alley. Harry held out the large key looking object to Hermione and as she touched her finger to it said, "Potter House."

The alley vanished in a swirl of color and a familiar tug behind their navels.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The pair stumbled at the end of the trip, but neither fell. They were standing on an overgrown cart path that ended with a dilapidated rusty iron gate in front of them. The wall the gate was attached to was just as bad, dirty and overgrown with cracked and missing stones. The over growth had blocked the path behind the gate. It took a moment to recognize the rust eaten shape where the two gate halves came together was a family crest. Both teens saw disappointment in the other's eyes.

Harry finally spoke. "Hope the house is in better shape?"

Hermione shrugged.

"Now what?

Harry smirked. "Let's try magic."

He placed his hand on the crest. Nothing happened. Seeing a small indentation in the letter he pushed his Potter Ring into the hole. A gold and scarlet swirl of magic swept out over his hand and then expanded to cover the wall and gate. As it flashed around, the wall was suddenly free of the encroaching vines and greenery. The missing blocks were filled in and the wall was shown to be built of gleaming soft grey stone blocks. The gate was revealed to be tall and sturdy, coloured dark iron-grey with an elaborate family crest joining the two halves. Behind the gate, an off-white drive of small gravel led through a grove of trees, disappearing from sight as the drive curved right.

The gates opened smoothly as they walked up to them. They kept walking along the drive through the grove of ancient trees, and when they came out the other side the pair stopped in astonishment.

In front of them was a very large, hell no, it was a huge manor building. Four stories tall with a dark grey roof, the façade was made up of grey stone work ranging in color from soft blue-grey to almost black-grey. There were numerous windows, giving the building a light and airy look.

The drive proceeded to circle a fountain on its way to a set of front entrance steps that had to be thirty feet across. The bloody doors looked tall enough for Hagrid to enter without stooping. There was a windowed five story turret on the front right corner and Harry thought he could see the roof of another on the back left corner.

"Oh, bugger," said Harry in a tone of defeat that actually made Hermione giggle. Seeing the look of betrayal he shot her, she cheekily looked at him and stated, "Nice house there, Potter."

Harry merely groaned and scrubbed his face with both hands. He reached out and grabbed Hermione's hand.

"Though I would rather die a thousand deaths . . ." he started walking up the drive toward the doors. They climbed the steps hand-in-hand until the massive doors.

"Now what?" thought Harry. "Try the ring again? Knock?"

After a moment of thought, he realized the ring was nudging his thoughts to follow a ritual? No, more like a formality.

He reached up, grasped the monster griffin-shaped bronze knocker and slammed it down on the door three times and flared his magic.

"I am your Liege Lord. Open for your Lord!" he roared.

The doors immediately swung open, and Lord Harry James Potter, forty-sixth Lord Potter swept into the entrance way of what was now HIS house. Hermione just stood on the threshold, gaping at Harry's back. Harry strode a dozen steps, stopped, stood in the middle of the family crest inlaid in the floor, planted his fists on his hips and declared in a thunderous voice, "Elves of Potter House, attend your family!"

Nothing occurred.

Harry's shoulders slumped as he mentally cringed over how pompous he had just acted.

He was steeling himself to turn and face Hermione when a thin wisp of light green swirled into existence to his right.

"Master, I am Tilitsy. Head of the Potter House elves. I regret not being here to greet you. If you please , follow my house spirit to our final resting spot."

"Final resting spot?" Harry and Hermione traded horrified looks as both of them started following the wisp towards the rear of the manor at a walk that soon turned into a run as the duo could not control themselves from feeling they had to try to stop some unspecified tragedy.

The wisp kept ahead of the rushing teens until they banged out of a rear door into what had been a formal garden, through the garden and off to the left around a small copse of trees.

There amidst the tangled undergrowth, the wisp stopped over a light green opaque glass box sitting on a raised pedestal.

The box looked horrifyingly about casket size for a house elf. The gasping teens could barely hear the fading voice from the wisp telling Master to push his magic into the box.

Harry flicked his wand from his wrist holster. Placing his wand on the top of the box he pushed his magic down its length into a Lumos spell. With a green sparkle the box vanished, leaving the pair looking at an elderly house elf wearing a maroon smock with the Potter crest on the left side lying on a cushion. Within a couple of seconds, the house elf opened her eyes.

In a thin cracked voice she as she looked at Harry she said, "Master Harry, you have returned to us."

"Tilitsy? Wha . . ."

"If Master will give Tilitsy a few moments, I will be strong enough to answer any questions young Master has."

The House elf lay quietly on her bier. As they watched she visibly filled out slightly, her skin lost its dry, flaky look, her frizzled dark brown hair started to gleam.

Hermione gasped as she realized what was happening. Tilitsy was gathering magic from Harry. This bonding with her new master was hitting Hermione hard as she still harboured some of the attitudes about house elf slavery that set her crusading for house elf rights during her fourth year. Yet, undeniably, bonding to "Master Harry's" magic was saving the elderly elf from near death.

Harry didn't care about any bonding.

All he knew was that he was somehow saving someone from death.

After half a minute, Tilitsy swung her legs over the side of the bier in preparation of dropping to the ground. Harry placed a hand in front of her to keep her sitting on the bier, partly because he thought she might be weak from her long sleep, and partly because he wouldn't have to bend over so far to talk to her.

"Tilitsy, what happened here? Why were you sleeping?"

"Master Harry, I am head elf of Potter house. I am the last of the Potter house elves. When there seemed little hope that a Lord Potter would return here, the other elves gave me the last of their magic to make this chamber. We had felt Master James and Mistress Lily die. We hoped that you had survived and would someday return to home here."

Hermione hoped her interpretation of this information was wrong. Harry had caught the unsaid part of the explanation also.

"Tilitsy, how many house elves were there when my parents left for Godric's Hollow?"

"There were five Master Harry. They are buried beneath the rowan tree there." She pointed.

The little elf hopped down from her bier and led the way over to the rowan tree. In a magically well kept garden were a dozen small grave markers. Four of them looked newer than the others. "They was Noge, Grille, Matsy and Caeli. We tried to keep the house ready for your return but the magic became weaker and weaker until it went away. I placed them here and then put myself to sleep." A large tear rolled down her cheek. "Theys would have been so happy Master lived to return. We did not know if you had."

The two youngsters didn't know what to do. They ended up kneeling and hugging the tearful elf.

As Tilitsy stopped crying, she reached into her smock and brought out a large handkerchief, cleaned her face and looking at the pair she stated "We will go to the house, have some tea, and you may ask Tilitsy any questions." With that, she clapped her hands and the three were suddenly standing in the kitchen near a small table with four chairs around it. "Mistress Lily used to like to sit at the table to have tea and talk with me about any work that was needed to be done around the house. You sit."

Harry and Hermione sat, both looking slightly stunned from the events of the last half hour.

They watched Tilitsy bustle around the kitchen. The startling part was the kitchen was only half height.

"It's elven height," murmured Hermione in wonder. And so everything was. Two foot high stoves, sinks and shelves and cupboards. Magic still did the work apparently. Tilitsy put a kettle on a stove burner and lit the fire. She snapped her fingers and three cups and saucers appeared with lemon slices, a sugar bowl and milk pitcher. Ten seconds later as the kettle whistled, she poured the water into a flower decorated white teapot and a two count later the teapot poured itself into the three cups. A second later, a small plate of oatmeal biscuits was sitting between the teens. Tilitsy suddenly popped onto her chair, reached out and took a cautious sip of her tea. "Tilitsy has missed that," she sighed.

Harry mixed in two sugars and took a cautious sip and found the tea was at perfect temperature.

"Where to begin?" Tilitsy said softly.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The two barely made it back to The Burrow in time for dinner. During dinner Harry told the story of starting the day at Gringotts and whinged about all the parchment work they had waded through. Mr. Weasley had shaken his head and commented Harry was a light-weight. The Ministry could not only create parchment work by the dragon load, it could do it day after day after day. Ginny and Hermione would have started teasing Harry about being a parchment light-weight but seeing Mrs. Weasley silently pushing her food around her plate and constantly looking at her heirloom clock to check on Ron's status, (his hand on the clock showed him "traveling") any humor the trio might have indulged in quietly passed away.

Just as dinner ended, Ron stepped out of the roaring fireplace announcing he was only home long enough to pack a clothes bag as he would be traveling from pitch to pitch the next several days.

Following Ron up to his room, the three teens talked him about what he had seen and talked about at the Wimbourne Wasps practice pitch. Before he hugged his parents farewell, Ron promised Hermione he would send her or bring her any plans the stadiums had on how they were built or what magic was used to modify them.

Hermione finally willed herself asleep and Bellatrix did not appear. Instead she remembered how Harry had taken her hand at Potter Manor, and how long he had held it. Just as though he had been a real boyfriend.

 **A/N**

Salic primogeniture—Inheritance only through males. No males, the line dies out.

A base population of around sixty thousand magic users has enough trouble

spendingenough galleons to support thirteen professional teams. Using

only four stadiums, one in England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland, for official

matchesreduces costs immensely.

This idea comes from memory of a story where the author used only one professional

Quidditch stadium for all matches. The teams home pitch was for practice and

local minor league games. If somebody will give me Author, Story and Chapter,

I will cheerfully credit them with the original idea.

Ah-ha. Dodging Prison and stealing Witches by LeadVonE

To my mind, wizarding world quidditch does not equate to the Premier League in terms of team income or player salaries. See lack of people with disposable income above.

How many Premier League teams come from 60,000 population cities?

In this story, One galleon = 30 pounds.

One sickle = about two pound

One knut = about 7 pence

 **Gack ! It is so easy to get bogged down in minutiae in these set up chapters.**

 **Really. I'm trying to move the story along. But my skipping rats (plot bunnies)**

 **keep hopping in. Ref, POA, Chapter 4.**


	6. Chapter 6

Grange, we need to talk

Chapter 6

All recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling

No personal money is being made.

No fame, or glory either.

Bummer

Transfiguration and Tribulation 1

Late June 1998

Harry and Hermione were a day early returning to Hogwarts. They had walked towards the school after having had a shortened lunch at the Three Broomsticks. They would have tarried longer, but the fan girls, and some Hermione fan boys, had forced them to take their leave pleading work at the castle. The pair was dressed for dirty work. Harry had on a tee shirt, black jeans and boots, and had a backpack hanging from a shoulder that thanks to Hermione's spellwork had an Undetectable Extension charm applied. Hermione was dressed in a tight green tee shirt, a pair of tight blue jeans that she claimed were worn and getting too small and ankle boots. Of course, once made, that comment Harry's eyes were frequently drawn to her body that the tight clothes displayed. He found he was enjoying what they were displaying.

They walked onto the Quidditch pitch to try some experiments for Ron. Pulling a parchment out of his pocket, Harry turned to Hermione and asked, "What do we want to try first?"

"I vote we try cleaning up the wood ash first as Nev told Ron that mixed with dragon dung it would make good fertilizer for the grass. I think we should maybe _Accio_ the iron bolts and fittings out of the ash piles so someone doesn't get spattered with pieces of iron when they summon the wood ash into a mixing pile somewhere."

She kicked a chunk of iron sitting in the closest ash pile to make her point.

Harry was fizzing with anticipation today. No paper work in sight, no Lordship duties, his best friend smiling in the sunshine and he was going to practice his magic.

"I'll _Accio_ and you shield?' he grinned, dropping his holly and phoenix feather wand into his hand from his new wrist holster.

"Prat. You get to have all the fun." She replied drawing her wand from its holster on the thigh of her jeans with a grin.

" _Accio_ iron bits!"

" _Protego."_

"Holy Shite!"

Hermione found herself frantically pushing more power into the shield that was threatening to collapse under the flying onslaught of dozens of chunks of iron from football size down to nails.

As the hail of metal ceased, Hermione dropped the shield and glared at the stunned looking Harry.

"Bloody hell, Harry! We haven't even entered the school and you're already trying to send us to Madame Pomfrey?" she ranted.

Harry had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Um, how about I shield and you _Accio?"_ he said apologetically while rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh, so you think I'm not strong enough to make my bits fly like yours?" she snarked back.

The teasing allusion sailed right past Harry.

Harry decided saying anything right then would be the wrong thing.

Hermione threw him a smirk and stalked off towards another section of the burned stands.

" _Accio_ iron pieces"

"Protego Maxima!"

Harry was taking no chances. He had watched as she pushed a _lot_ of power into that summoning. It had been a good call. Either Hermione had summoned from a particularly iron rich pile, or she was out to prove something to Harry. The deluge of chunks and pieces strained even Harry's powerful shield.

As the clunking and thudding ceased, Hermione looked at the pile and innocently deadpanned, "Guess there are more of my bits than your bits," and pretending to completely ignore Harry's blush.

"That worked. What's next on the request list?" she innocently continued.

"Um, some type of digging spell to remove the burned, uh, stuff so Ron can re-fill with good dirt? Would that be a charm? Maybe a Vanishing Charm of some type?"

Hermione sighed. "Without setting some boundaries, I think we might end up with an out of control banishing. Where would the spell stop? I don't have any ideas off the top of my head. Let's find out if the library survived. Maybe I can find an answer there. Next?"

"Can we straighten the scoring hoops?" Harry continued. The pair walked over to where three of the golden hoops had landed after their poles had burned.

One seemed undamaged. The second was badly damaged. There was a double, right-then-left bend to both sides of the hoop. The last hoop had a small fold length-wise as if it had hit the ground right edge first.

"Let's try this one with the slight bend first." Harry remarked. "How about you hold a shield spell on the left side, and I'll push with a shield charm on the right."

Hermione pondered for a moment. "Okay, but what do you think of casting a softening charm on the bend first?"

"Brilliant."

"Ready?" "Protego!"

"Protego!"

The hoop quivered a little but nothing happened to the bend.

"Hmm. All-l-l-l right. Let's put some REAL power to it this time."

"Protego Maxima !"

This time they succeeded in driving the hoop half a foot deep into the ground, but not straightening the bend.

"Bugger," sighed Harry. "More research, my brightest witch?"

"Yes. More research."

The duo turned and restarted the climb to the school. The four goblins on guard duty thumped their spears on the ground twice as they drew near the entrance and the guard on the right spoke. "Enter Lord Potter and Mistress Granger."

Harry was surprised by the goblins action, but recovered. "I thank you for your guardship of Hogwarts," and gave them a slight bow. The goblins nodded back and resumed their posts.

As they headed up to the third floor where they would be working tomorrow, Hermione conjured her otter messenger patronis and sent it off to inform McGonagall that they were in the school and she was headed for the library. Harry continued to the east wing of the third floor and opened the door to what had been Fluffy's room.

Hermione had pointed out that this room was to be left untouched by the work further up the corridor and would be a good place to set up camp (Literally!) while they stayed at Hogwarts.

Harry reached into his backpack and fished out what was now his tent. He had bought it from Mr. Weasley the day after rescuing it from the Forest of Dean and then had taken it to the Magical Travel and Adventure shop in Diagon Alley. Two days, fifty-eight galleons, eleven sickles and twenty-two knuts later, Harry's tent was refurbished with new furniture, refreshed heating and cooling charms, updated water and waste removal spells, and a cushioning charm added to the tent flooring because they would be setting the tent up on a stone floor.

The only change Harry had to make while setting up the tent was since he could not drive the stakes into the stone floor he had to use a Stiffening charm on the ropes and then a Permanent Sticking charm on the rope ends to "stake" the tent to the floor.

Kitchen, pantry, sitting room, study area, four bedrooms, two bathrooms. As Harry toured the tent he made a mental note to see if the Hogwarts elves could clean the tent every other day or so.

The pantry was full of food. Harry had gone hungry once in this tent and had vowed not to repeat the experience.

Harry grabbed a cool butterbeer and headed up the corridor to take another look at rooms to be re-worked into the Eighth Year House. He spent time in each room trying to guess which rooms would perform which function. He then turned around and started walking towards the west third floor corridor. He opened every door and peered into every room. He was looking for junk. Broken desks and chairs would be a source for materials to be transfigured into the furniture they were going to need. When she was his transfiguration professor, McGonagall had beaten into her students that it was far easier to make a long lasting transfigured object from something vaguely similar to what you wanted rather than conjuring the object. Conjuring could take massive amounts of magical power, tiring the wizard quickly. He wanted every bit of material he could scavenge from the third floor because then the work crew wouldn't have to levitate stuff up or down staircases. He invisibly marked each door as he left the room with a code to tell himself which doors had golden junk behind them and which ones had dross.

Fourth floor was next. After all, it was easier to levitate stuff down a staircase rather than up.

He finally worked his way up to the west corridor of the seventh floor. When he reached the long stretch of blank wall, he started thinking about needing a room with a table and chairs in it as he paced along the wall three times. Nothing happened. He tried again, pouring his concentration into what he needed, pushing his magic hard into the wall area.

Nothing.

Disappointment flowed through him.

Suddenly, he felt something tugging at the edge of his mind. Or more precisely, a twitch on his magic. Harry spread his sense of magic outward trying to isolate and track down that faint, faint tendril he had felt.

Whatever it had been was gone. A faint smirk entered Harry's face. Hermione was going to love being given a mystery tied to the castle.

Harry decided he had seen enough for the day. He headed back to the tent and made some lamb with rice pilaf for dinner, saving some with a warming charm for Hermione whom he was positive would forget about food while up in the library. Afterwards he was reading a NEWT level transfiguration textbook when Hermione re-appeared and they comfortably chatted as old friends do while she daintily wolfed down her late dinner. Hermione said she was on the trail of some spells that would help Ron, and Harry told her about owling Ginny about where to find the tent and that odd tug to his magic up on seventh floor.

Bidding each other good night, Harry first _Silencio'd_ his bed, then fell asleep as his head hit the pillow. For some reason Voldemort did not appear.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Harry quickly pushed through the deja vu feeling of waking up in the boys bedroom of the tent again. He yawned as he strolled into the bathroom, quickly showered, shaved, and was cooking breakfast in the kitchen within fifteen minutes. The smell of frying bacon being the universal wake-up call, Hermione soon joined him at the small kitchen table as eggs, bacon, sausages, fresh fruit and muffins where placed on the table by a humming Harry.

"My, someone seems to be disgustingly chipper today," was Hermione's comment.

Harry just grinned back and whipped two pitchers out of the cool box, pouring a glass of pumpkin juice for him and a glass of her secret vice, orange juice, for her.

"For some reason I slept well last night, and today we are finally, after, how many years? We are going to again learn constructive magic. Hermione, all we've done for years is learn destructive magic. Think about it. Because of who I am, you and I have had to learn every possible way to jinx, hex and curse our enemies before they could kill us. You and I can destroy objects and maim and kill people in literally dozens of ways. I really, really want to learn ways to make my magic create," Harry waved his arms around, sloshing juice . . "something."

Hermione stared at Harry. Her mouth wasn't quite gaping like a water starved fish, but it was close. She rose out of her chair, walked over to Harry, took the pitchers from his hands and placed them on the table, then turned around and absolutely crushed his ribs with the hardest Hermione Hug he had _ever_ received. "Oh Harry," she snuffled into his tee shirt. "That maybe the most profound thing about our magic you've ever said."

They stood frozen together until Harry started gasping "Breath, . . Herm . . can't brea . ."

With an Eek and a "Sorry, Harry" Hermione released her death grip on the young man.

As Harry's face lost its beet red color, Hermione's blush soared from her neck to her face.

"Thank Merlin I wore a sensible heavy working bra today. The evidence of how aroused he just made me will be hidden," she thought.

Hermione swiveled back to the table frantically looking for something to distract herself with.

"You know, I'll bet half the people that show up today won't have eaten breakfast. Think we could make some toast and they'll at least have a bacon or sausage sandwich?"

"No problem," said Harry. "If you get some more bread from the box, and toast it up, I'll start on some more bacon and bangers."

The pair spent a pleasant fifteen minutes cooking and then placing the food under a warming charm.

"So, McGonagall told you yesterday that we are having five other people show up this morning?"

"Yep. Ginny, Padma, Susan Bones, Megan Jones and Anthony Goldstein."

"Megan Jones?"

"She's a Hufflepuff. You would have had to be watching around the classroom to notice her. Shy, quiet girl yet she was always one of the first to complete a transfiguration for McGonagall."

Harry frowned. "Wish we had a few more blokes for this work. The clean-up is either going to take a while because we will wear out our magic cores from heavy use, or we will end up using sheer muscle power."

Hermione glared at him narrow eyed. "Feeling a little sexist this morning, are we?" she snarked.

"No, "Harry defended himself. "I think that physical strength will be needed whether to power magic or just use muscle power. You are in shape, er, um, condition, whereas we have no idea if anyone except Ginny has any muscle tone at all." Shape. Yeah, Hermione was in very good shape, he thought. Ack, that's friendshape, you pervert.

"Ooooh, did I just hear my name mentioned in a positive way?" came a voice from the door of the tent.

The duo turned with identical grins as Ginny strolled into the tent, followed by four other people.

Following her into the tent, Harry recognized the dark haired, dark eyed Indian beauty Padma Patil, blue-eyed Susan Bones who still wore her dark blond hair in a long plait down her back, and dark eyed and dark haired Anthony Goldstein. He assumed the tall, willowy, sea-green eyed brunette was Megan Jones.

"I always knew you two loved me," she followed up as she walked up to Harry and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I found this bunch lollygagging around the main entrance so I took pity on them and led 'em here to their fearless leader."

Hermione and Padma both greeted her words with a snort of amusement. Anthony looked bemused, Megan looked lost, and seeking Hufflepuff safety, edged closer to Susan.

Harry took a quick look at his watch. "We have fifteen minutes before we have our meeting down the hall. If anybody missed breakfast, there is some food here and the loo is behind that curtain over there."

Harry stopped his recitation and walked around the table to Susan and wrapped her up in a hug. "How have you been Susan?" he asked quietly. "I didn't have a chance before to say I was sorry to hear about your Aunt." Susan who had stiffened as she was engulfed by Harry, relaxed suddenly and buried her face against her chest. "As well as could be expected, I suppose," she said, her voice clogged with emotion. Voldemort had ruthlessly had her and a half score of her guard Aurors killed in Sixth year.

Harry just held her for a few moments. When he stepped back, he looked over at Padma Patil and when with a grin she spread her arms, he gave her a greeting hug also. Goldstein and Jones just stood there wondering what was going on.

Hermione and Ginny were both rooted in place by shock!

Harry NEVER initiated hugs.

After releasing Padma, Harry turned and held out his hand to Anthony.

"Been doing alright?" he asked.

"Yeah," Anthony said as he nodded.

Harry lastly looked at Megan Jones, reached out and took her hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles. "Miss Jones, I do not believe we've ever been introduced. I'm Potter, Harry Potter." Megan just looked at him wide eyed and nodded.

Ginny glared at Hermione. "Did you nail him with a Cheering Charm?" she demanded.

"Wha . . . NO! I didn't. I wouldn't do that!"

"Yeah? Well I want to know where this tall, suave and articulate Harry came from. He's been a broody git for months."

Harry ignored her. "Alright everybody. Everyone dressed in clothes that can get dirty?" Nods came from them all. "Then let's go."

The group headed up the corridor and turned into the second door on the right. Inside were two goblins with several rolls of parchment under their arms.

Harry lead the way up to the pair and introduced himself.

"I am Master Stone Builder Snarfarg and my apprentice here is Makfang. We will be your instructors on building what is to become your school quarters. I need a large table, low enough to be used by us here," he pointed. Hermione flipped her wand out, levitated a broken chair to in front of her and with a swoop and a wave, the chair became a table large enough for the parchments to be unrolled.

Weighting down the rolls with some scavenged chunks of wood on the corners, Snarfarg started pointing out the rooms drawn on the plans.

"You are going to install a wall across the corridor here. That door on the right will lead to the common room, from there, the first door on the left to a small library. The second door on the left will be for the female sleeping and bathing rooms. The door on the right for the male quarters. I understand the rooms will be smaller than standard as there will be only one or two beds per room? Correct?"

The group looked at each other. Harry shortly spoke, "If that's the plan, we agree with it."

The goblins "Hrumpf" was impressive. "Am I to assume no one has briefed you on just what the work you are to perform is?"

Hermione wanted to sympathize with the Master Stone Builder. This was shoddy planning and his time was valuable. Harry didn't care. He was used to planning on the fly, figuring he could make it work somehow. Especially with Hermione to bail his arse out of trouble.

"I will leave you wizards to study the plans before I return on the fourth day. It should take you at least that long to haul the refuse out of these rooms. Makfang, set up the _droghostomus_ to _rorostarchus_ forms now." The apprentice scurried over to a large shoulder bag and started pulling out various lengths of six inch wide wood that were often longer than the bag. He laid them out in square patterns of various sizes from a one foot by two foot rectangle to a three foot by seven foot frame. Next he pulled a heavy looking sack out and started pouring what looked like sand into the frames. Next, the sand was leveled about an inch thick with an obviously charmed rake. Finally the apprentice started chanting in gobbledygook and waving his hands over the forms. Instantly the forms filled with stone. Or at least something that looked like six-inch thick stone, complete with mortar joints that made the larger pieces look like stone work.

Snarfarg waked over and picked up the sack of 'sand'. "This is _droghostomus_. With the proper enchantment, it transforms into a soft stone called _rorostarchus_ that you see in the forms here," he pointed. "This stone needs to be hardened to make it strong enough to be made into a proper wall. This is how you will make the walls for then rooms here. You do not have the skill nor the time to learn to be traditional stone masons. Wizarding or muggle."

"We will leave these materials here for you to practice with. Your Headmistress will teach you the human wizard spells that will do what Apprentice Makfang did. Any questions before I go back to the other critical work I need to oversee in other parts of the castle?"

Hermione had three questions.

Could the forms have a back so the wall could be built vertically in place? Snarfarg waved his hands at the bag and three pieces of wood, three and a half feet by eight feet flew over to the _rorostarchus_ forms. "You will have to find a wizarding spell that will make the _droghostomus_ stick to a vertical wall panel."

Can we shrink or enlarge the panels or forms. Yes, about fifty percent before damage.

How do we make the back look like the front on a two-sided wall? Make back-to-back walls.

And with a goblin sneer for the stupid wizards, they walked off.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

It was three days later and the seven filthy, exhausted teens were sprawled on couches and chairs around the tents "sitting" room. It had been a long three days working in rooms where everything touched or moved stirred up clouds of dust. It was dull, dirty, hard work. Any furniture in the rooms, broken or not, had to be sorted, cleaned and put in the semi-clean corridor for later use. Ginny, due to her mothers' training was best doing the cleaning charms. Harry sent her home for the first night to get some spells from Molly to try to corral the dust which drifted sodding everywhere. There were happy smiles that next morning when Ginny returned with dust repelling charms for doorways and half a dozen pies and cakes.

The team developed two styles of trash removal. Harry, Ginny and Hermione combined muggle and magical methods. Harry transfigured some shovels and wheelbarrows and the three of them would shovel the trash into a pile, levitate it into the wheelbarrow, banish the dust off the pile, Featherweight Charm it and wheel the pile down to the Grand Staircase where someone, or something, removed the piles each night.

The other four, being PureBloods or Halfbloods, skipped the shovel and wheelbarrow steps and levitated the piles down to the Grand Staircase. Manual labor was not in a wellborn witches or wizards lexicon. They also tired faster as the constant use of spells on their magical core drained them of energy more quickly, and they were completely exhausted by evening.

Harry was not surprised the next morning when the other five asked if they could stay in the tent with him and Hermione for the next several nights.

As Anthony Goldstein put it, "That walk down to Hogsmeade last night and back up that bloody hill this morning liked to've killed me."

Second night brought an evening with liberal use of pain relief potions and massage lotions after the evening showers.

The third night was the worst.

There was no conversation in the tents sitting room. They were all too tired and dirty to even complain about how tired and filthy they were. Padma pulled the scarf off that she had been using as a dust mask in a cloud of dust that she was too exhausted to clean away.

"I'm beyond exhausted," Ginny finally spoke.

"Yeah, but we are almost done'" replied Harry. "Some of us can finish up while others are learning to build with that sandy-stone stuff."

"Who do I have to AK to get a bath in this tent?" moaned Susan. "I'm convinced the dirt in my skin will never wash out in the shower."

"Merlin, I'm positive my clothes will never be clean again," was Megan's comment. "I'm going to have to bin them all."

Harry started to say something but visibly stopped himself. "Lady Bones, do you still own a house elf?"

"Yes. Why? Oh . . . Wissy, come here please."

Two seconds later a house elf dressed in a tunic with the Bones Family crest woven into the upper left side. "Mistress called? What does Mistress want Wissy to do?"

Susan looked at Harry.

"Wait a moment, Susan. Kreacher."

And with a pop the wizened, ancient looking house elf wearing a golden locket appeared in front of Harry.

"Master has called Kreacher?" he rasped.

"Kreacher, is the prefects bathroom still working?"

"Yes Master. It works as before."

If Harry had not been so tired, the reactions of the other teens would have had him laughing out loud. Hermione, Susan and Padma all did face plants. Ginny looked looked confused, Anthony and Megan looked concussed.

"Hmmm. Anyone but me feel that we're acting like students instead of adults? I know that I for one missed a lot of being just a normal teenager with good old Moldyshorts trying to kill me six years out of seven. Therefor, I seem to have turned into a somewhat untrained adult. So, how come rest of you are not thinking the way an adult wizard would?"

"Those are house elves. " stated a wide eyed Ginny. "And isn't that Kreacher from Sirius' house? How'd he get here?"

"Tell you later. After I've had a chance to soak my aches." Harry replied. "Lady Bones, would you stay a moment? The rest of you get ready to bathe! Suits, slippers and robes in ten minutes!"

As the others scattered into their rooms, Harry asked Susan if she was willing to have Wissy keep the tent clean, beds made and laundry done while she was staying in the tent. Susan agreed and headed off to get ready.

Harry then asked Kreacher if he could take over cooking meals and keeping the pantry stocked while the group stayed in the tent.

"Master will be wanting three meals every day?"

"Yes. Dinner tonight will be twenty minutes after we get back from the bath."

Kreacher bowed and popped away. Harry hustled into the room he shared with Anthony.

There he found the wizard standing over his pile of filthy clothes looking lost.

"Problem there, Ay-Tee?" said Harry.

"Didn't bring a swimsuit," was the mumbled reply.

Again Harry was too tired to fall over laughing.

"Ya know Ay-Tee," he said, "I feel for you. Just think. In that bath are going to be five really good lookin' witches, and you're going to miss out. Pity. McGonagall said you were one of the best transfiguration students she has."

Goldstein literally smacked himself on the forehead. Both of them grabbed a pair of underwear and with a spell, both had swimsuits for the occasion. Anthony's was black. Harry had gone for neon red and gold. Slippers and robes completed their clothing and the headed into the sitting room. There they met up with the five witches who were similarly attired and the group set off for the fifth floor.

Anthony's old password still worked on the door to the prefects bath. They first hurried around to the taps. Since everyone except Ginny had been prefects or Quidditch team captains, they knew how to set the waters to pain and suffering relief. The seven suddenly felt embarrassed. Megan stared at her feet, not looking at anybody. It was Ginny who smirked and kicked off her slippers and then dropped her robe on a bench. Harry had no idea how Anthony was doing, but he was having trouble not panting with his tongue hanging out.

Ginny innocently looked around, flipped her hair back, squared her shoulders and proceeded to saunter into the pool gradually hiding the tiniest black bikini Harry had ever seen as the bubble covered water obscured her body. The wave of jealousy and/or envy from the other girls was almost palpable. Robes started coming off.

Harry tried not to stare. He really did. And failed.

Hermione was wearing a dark green bikini almost as small as Ginny's. Padma had a royal blue and copper bikini not as radical as Ginny's or Hermione's.

Susan and Megan had opted out of the Great Bikini Show-off and settled for sleek one-piece suits. They seemed based on Fleur Delacour's silver suit from the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Susan's was solid silver with a gold diagonal highlight with broad shoulder straps to hold her large chest aloft. Megan had gone with a pretty flower pattern on the silver. And all the girls looked go-o-o-d.

A conjured ball whacked the staring Harry on the side of his head. His head whipped around looking for his attacker.

"Gee, Harry. You going to keep that robe on forever?" drawled a trying-to-look-innocent, yet sporting a huge smirk, Ginny.

Without a thought, a bemused Harry dropped the robe behind him only to stop cold at the loud gasp of horror from of all people, Anthony.

"Merlin and Morgana! How are you still alive?"

 **A/N**

Gotta love a cliffie. Even if it is a lousy one.

Hard chapter to write. Hamster brain is nowhere to be found last couple of weeks.


	7. Chapter 7

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 7 (6.3)

Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling

I, sadly, do not get any knuts for this

The bodies carry scars also

 **My apologies for being a few days late with this chapter. I'm in the wilds of southwest**

 **Pennsylvania and there is no practical WiFi nearby.**

 **As a** _ **Mea Culpa,**_ **I will shorten the posting cycle for the next chapter.**

Things had been going so well Harry's brain wailed.

It had taken until supper the first night for the seven young adults to start regarding each other as . . . maybe not friends, but more than acquaintances. Harry had cooked a quick shepherd's pie with lots of mutton and potatoes for protein and carbohydrates, with a side of summer squash and a salad because the group had burned a lot of energy and tomorrow they would be working harder. Everyone had raved about his cooking. Compliments about the pizza next night had truly made him feel appreciated. Even Anthony and Megan had joined in the teasing and ribald comments the group had made amongst themselves as they tired from the work and itched from the dirt and dust that covered them. All six had endorsed the idea that Anthony was too formal a name when he was being worked like a house elf. Somehow it came out that Anthony's middle name was Terrence. When Ginny had started calling him Ay-Tee, the rest had joined in ribbing the rather straight laced Ravenclaw.

The final bond came after Hermione dubbed them the Magnificent Seven, and then had to explain the movie. And then explain what a movie was, and then explain . . .

Personally, he had actually had two nights of no nightmares. He had not slept much because he woke up after four hours or so anyway and was afraid to go back to sleep because the nightmares might appear then. He could handle this, because to him, this was good. He could handle short of sleep better then short of sleep with his mind exhausted from wrestling with nightmares.

Then, distracted by the pretty girls in revealing bathing suits getting in the pool, he had acted like a normal young man and dropped his robe to join the party.

" _Merlin and Morgana! How are you still alive?"_

Harry felt himself immediately hunch over and turn his back away from everybody in the room.

Blindly fumbling for the robe he had so carelessly dropped, he refused to meet anybody's eyes.

Grabbing the robe, he clutched it to his chest and started sidling out of the bathing room. He made six steps when he suddenly realized that Hermione and Ginny had somehow gotten out of the pool and were blocking his escape.

"Please move, Hermione. Please," he pleaded.

Even with the tears that were starting to flow down her cheeks she shook her head No.

Suddenly her wand flew into her hand. She first tapped the top of her head, then her face between her eyes, then swept the front of her body and finally, she tapped her left arm below the elbow.

Harry gasped in agony, because he was not sure what the rest of the wand movements had been for, but the last seared his psyche to the bone.

"Look at me, Harry! Raise your eyes and look at me!" she commanded.

Harry refused to look up.

"Damn you, Harry! Look at me!"

Harry closed his eyes as he raised his head, not opening them until he figured he could look Hermione in the eyes only. Desperately he locked eyes with her, refusing to let them look elsewhere.

His plan was doomed to failure. Slowly Hermione raised her left arm in front of his face. The cursed word carved into the white skin of her forearm had Harry starting to feel light-headed.

MUDBLOOD.

"It's not your fault, Harry. And this one is not your fault," she continued placing his right hand just below her bikini top over the center of the long brick-red scar that ran diagonally from her left collar bone, between her breasts down to almost her right hip. It had been created by Dolohov's curse after she followed Harry to the Ministry to save Sirius.

"This is not your fault," as she pressed his left hand onto the jagged scar that actually seemed to be missing meat on the outside of her right leg just below her hip.

"And these?" she relentlessly continued, waving the hand not holding onto Harry over her body at the literally dozens of small slice and pucker scars that littered her skin. "Do you honestly believe you caused all these?"

Harry just looked at her mutely, agony in his eyes.

"You didn't cause those, and you didn't cause these Harry," came Ginny's voice from his side. "Look at me."

Apparently while he was focused on Hermione, Ginny had also dropped the glamours she was using on her body.

Scars, red and pink, often long, crisscrossed the front of her body. As she proceeded to slowly turn around, Harry could see her back and the backs of her legs were crisscrossed also. He sank to his knees as tears started to stream down his face.

"All I wanted was to keep you safe. But I wasn't fast enough, or strong enough. I took too sodding long! It all happened to you because of me-e-e-ee! I couldn't protect you!" he screamed at the last.

It took a while, but Harry returned to the outside world realizing he was wrapped in the arms of two witches. He just stopped thinking for a few minutes and enjoyed the peace and quiet. It could not last though. He suddenly wondered where the others were when he couldn't hear them. He raised his head up and looked around. The bathroom was empty except for the three of them.

"Where are they?" he whispered.

"They finished and went back to the tent," came Hermione's quiet reply.

Harry cleared his throat so he could talk. "Right. Can we go now?" he said as he rose to his feet.

"In a bit," said Ginny. The girls grabbed an arm each as he rose. "We haven't had our bath yet. And neither have you. There's no one here except us, so no excuses, Potter."

Harry found himself being frog marched around to the other end of the pool where the two witches dropped off their wands, and then to his surprise, with a smirk to each other, the pair threw him into the pool. As he emerged through the bubbles spluttering, he found them advancing on him armed with wash clothes, soap and bottles of shampoo. To his intense embarrassment, the girls started washing him down. They didn't flinch and they didn't comment. Harry was so grateful about their lack of reaction to his scars, he found tears starting in his eyes again.

Part way through, Ginny switched to shampooing his hair, ducking him underwater to rinse and re-applying shampoo when she thought one shampooing was not enough. Harry found the experience both erotic and embarrassing. The embarrassment made him happy he was underwater from his waist down hiding his reaction to the erotic. The girls washed themselves, but dragooned Harry into shampooing their mops of hair. Harry was surprised at how soothing the act was for him.

It was not until the trio started drying themselves that Harry started worrying about what was waiting for him at the tent. The girls wound towels around their hair and started leading Harry back to the tent. Before they got to the Grand Staircase, the pair of girls shared a look and turned to Harry.

"What worries you most about going back to the tent, Harry" Hermione asked.

Harry just looked at his slippers.

Ginny cleared her throat. "You know what I hated about the Carrows? They made me feel weak. They toyed with me just like they would toy with the first years. I hated the feeling that I was powerless against them."

"Are you afraid your new friends are going to think you're weak now Harry?" Hermione quietly asked.

Harry nodded mutely.

"Being weak is what every enemy you've ever had accused you of. It started with your relatives, didn't it? A dozen years of abuse."

Nod.

"Then Quirrellmort accused you of being weak first year. Second year it was Diary Voldemort, fourth and fifth Year it was Voldemort in person claiming how weak you were. For six years it was Snape constantly belittling you. And last year that forever be-damned locket actually made all of us weak."

Hermione took a deep breath. "They are all gone. You may have a collection of scars from the hells you've traveled through, but you have survived. I'm sure your nightmares tell you how helpless and weak you are, but those of us in your waking world know you are a forged in fire Warrior."

Harry just stared at her.

"Well, since you won't believe me standing here, how about we go get some of Kreacher's dinner?"

And with that, two battered warriors dragged another battered and be-damned warrior to the tent for some needed food.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Dinner was quiet. No one talked about Harry's mental meltdown, preferring to stick with hopefully safe topics like the wonderful taste of Kreacher's chicken dinner or what spells they would be learning tomorrow. Harry did not speak and sat with his eyes downcast, and as soon as he finished his food he headed into the Boys Bedroom and crawled into his bed.

With Harry gone, the remaining six teens looked at each other. Anthony only looked at Hermione and Ginny. He that broke the thickening silence in a soft voice.

"I do not think that Harry Potter is a nutter. However he _does_ look as though he hasn't slept in a month. And that lack seems to be contributing to the fact he is _that_ far from a total breakdown." Anthony espoused, holding his thumb and fore finger a quarter inch apart.

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other. The two friends seemed to come to an agreement without speaking. Hermione turned back to Anthony and opened her mouth to speak when . .

"It's the nightmares, isn't it" blurted Susan. "I'm getting them three, sometimes four, nights per week. I'm sick of being afraid to sleep at night because it could be another night when I see those bastards torture and kill my Aunt and her guards."

Susan refused to hang her head to hide her tears.

"About twice a week. It's the dead in the courtyard. I knew Jacobson, Emmerstal, Shieldman and of course, Lavender," said Padma quietly.

"I'm with Padma," Megan spoke softly, just above a whisper. "Except most of the dead I knew were older. They were friends of my fiancé. The rest are the staring dead from the Killing Curse."

"Mostly what Padma said," added Anthony.

The four looked expectantly at Hermione and Ginny.

Ginny sighed. "Since after Voldemort possessed me in first year, he's been popular in my sub-conscious. And let's not forget the Crucio's and the cutters from the Carrow's. And Colin and Remus and Tonks, Lavender, Romilda and Harry being dead when Hagrid carried him up to the school. I have . . ." Her voice tailed off. "Oh, bloody hell. Tonight's gonna be bad," she thought.

Now it was five staring at Hermione. She decided to dodge the questions in their eyes.

"You can pick any year. Do you know between Harry or Ron or I, one of us has almost died every year at this school? It was supposed to be the safest place in the world." Hermione deliberately put her face into a thousand yard stare. "Oddly, it didn't quite work out that way."

After a few moments of silence, Anthony said, "He's going to have a really bad night, isn't he? Any way to stop it?"

Hermione started slowly nodding. "Yes, there is."

"Well?"

In a detached, clinical voice she started speaking. "One of us will have to sleep with him. It calms him down most nights. If he goes off, having a person there to wake him up quickly usually helps him to fall asleep again."

As she was speaking, Ginny's face had started to mimic a swelling volcano prior to exploding. Flushed skin, narrow glaring eyes and pressed lips.

"And just how do you know that, you bint?" roared through Ginny's head.

"However, Ginny and I cannot be the one tonight. We have . . . control issues. I am of the opinion that if we thought it would help him, we would shag him until his brain dribbled out his ears. Short term? Good solution. Long term? Bad idea."

The gobsmacked looks on everyone else's face could have been comical. Just not tonight.

She continued in that same calm, unemotional voice. "Padma, you can't either. This is a bad time to seduce Harry in an attempt to solve some of the problems you've talked about having." "If you still want him, try after school term starts."

Hermione now had two ready to erupt volcanos.

"Megan. You have a fiancé. I reckon he would be very unhappy if told you were sleeping in a bed with the Man Who Conquered."

"So," she tracked her head around and fixed Susan with a glare that had the blonde thinking killing curses could be brown colored. No wand needed.

"You will have to be a Second Wife if you want to continue the Bones Family line, correct? Since you might end up with a purity clause in your marriage contract, I believe you can be trusted to stay out of Harry's pajamas tonight."

The blunt, emotionless voice Hermione had used in her pronouncements was leaving the room breathless.

"Why don't we go to your room and get you into some nice sexless pajamas. Oh, and let's not forget a blanket keep you warm. Wouldn't want you sliding under the blankets with him 'cause you're cold."

Again, the look on Susan's face would have had laughter rolling through the tent any night except tonight.

"Don't worry, Bones. Hermione and I will escort you and tuck you in," came the icy look and comment from Ginny. It was obvious to everyone she was unhappy with the plan, but would not try to stop it.

Harry woke up early the next morning. He knew it was just before dawn because he could barely see, and he had spelled the tent to mimic the day/night cycle outside. The necessity of wakening early had been brutally ingrained in him during his abused years. Today was one of those pleasant mornings when he did not feel any urgency to get out of bed except that generated by his bladder. No head invasions by Voldemort overnight made for pleasant mornings.

His lazy attempt to move was suddenly halted by a familiar weight draped upon his chest. He was a bit surprised in that usually, past experience should have him inhaling a mouthful of bushy brown hair about now.

Cracking open his eyes, he was startled to find he did not have a mass of brunette hair sprawled across his chest. Instead the hair was blond and when he picked his head up, he could see a long braid trailing down her back. That meant the sleeping weight on him was Susan Bones. Harry was so startled he twitched and that started the awakening of his blanket covered snuggler. Harry decided to stay still as she raised her head off his shoulder and gave a sleepy grin while looking at him.

"Morning Potter,'" she said as her grin widened. "I personally think this would be a whole lot more fun if I was under the blankets with you, don't you think?"

Even while Harry flushed bright red, he suddenly noticed that Susan was lying on top of his blankets with another blanket over her for warmth.

The relief Harry felt let him relax and drop back onto his pillow.

"Bones," he murmured. "We've got to stop meeting like this. When we're found out, hexes will fly."

That elicited a quiet chuckle from Susan.

"I now understand why some girls like sleeping with men. This could be . . . become habit forming. I felt, faintly, but noticeably, our magics touching last night."

Harry picked his head up again, his eyebrows rising in surprise to look Susan in her eyes again.

"That's right, Harry. In fact, when I felt your magics, um, disturbance, I realized you were starting a nightmare. I'm actually thinking that I may have stopped it before it fully started."

She looked pensive for a moment before continuing. "Maybe this is what Auntie meant about the Bone's Family Gift. If we have it, we can feel people's magic. You have very nice magic, by the way."

They both lay quietly, lost in their thoughts.

Some time later, Susan reached for her wand and cast _Tempus_.

"It's time for me to go. Thank you Harry for the peaceful sleep. I'm going to give you the credit for me not having my usual nightmare last night."

She started sitting up and poked her feet through the bed's side curtains. She turned around and shot him a mischievous grin.

"You know Harry? You were a very good cuddle in bed despite three layers of chastity blankets between us."

And while Harry's brain struggled to follow her morning comments, Susan stood up, wrapped her blanket around her and walked out of the bedroom.

The excellent breakfast that Kreacher prepared was eaten quietly. Despite how good it tasted, nobody commented on it.

Hermione and Ginny were both hollow eyed and wan. Their night had obviously been bad and their faces showed sleeplessness had taken a toll.

Susan and Harry looked tired but not especially so. Any urge Susan had to tease the other two girls had vanished upon seeing their faces.

Anthony, Padma and Megan varied somewhere in between the two pairs.

Harry was looking at the strung out pair with worry in his eyes. He was still feeling guilty.

He knew just how difficult it had been for them to expose their scarred bodies in public. He reckoned the only reason he would have consciously bared his body to the pity or ridicule of the others, would have been to save their lives.

The non-Gryffindor four had no clue about what to say to the other three.

They thought of how Harry had reacted to the public unveiling of his scars, and how Hermione and Ginny in trying to comfort him, had disclosed the price paid by _their_ bodies in the war. They were afraid that anything they said would sound pitying.

The person who did that would probably die from the cuts that the tongue lashing from the trio would leave on _their_ bodies.

Hermione was reading the mood of the others around the breakfast table. The others thought that her and Ginny's haunted look came from a combination of lack of sleep, worry about Harry and what the others might think about their physical scarring. They were mostly correct, but partly wrong. What they didn't know, thanks to the powerful silencing charms, was the coldly furious row that had started in her and Ginny's room after `tucking Susan in'.

It started with, "You faithless slag. Did you enjoy shagging my boyfriend while you two were gone?" And deteriorated from there.

The accusations and denials lasted about half an hour. The Ginny yelling only lasted about half that before her throat became too raw to keep screaming. Hermione kept denying, denying. Sometimes her voice rose to match Ginny's shouting, but it was a testament to their war forced maturity that wands were not pulled and blows were not used. The argument finally ended when Hermione drew her wand, held the tip to her lips and intoned, "I, Hermione Jean Granger, swear on my life and my magic that I had neither vaginal intercourse nor oral sex with Harry James Potter while traveling in Australia."

After the glow around her faded, she held her wand up and said "Lumos". The tip lit brightly. Ginny's infamous Weasley temper popped like a pricked balloon.

"You never . . "

"Nope"

"But, how did you know?"

"Did the same thing we did with Bones. Sometimes he spoke your name in his sleep."

The last broke Ginny. She collapsed to the floor on her knees and started sobbing. The sobbing escalated into broken-hearted wails. Hermione was thoroughly confused by what was happening. The best she figured she could do was to kneel next to Ginny and gather her into her arms. Ginny curled herself into the comforting arms of the older girl as the wrenching sobs continued.

As the sobbing abated to hiccups, the younger girl started talking.

"I want to love him so badly it hurts. My stomach actually _hurts,_ Hermione. But we are not going to last in the long run. For years I dreamed about being on Harry's arm at parties and balls, playing the great Lady, being in love with Harry Potter. The problem is, I've spent years developing this fun, outgoing Ginny personality for myself that I actually like. But Harry will always want to be quiet and solitary. You know how he shuns his fame. We would hate each other in a short time because we want completely different lives in a few years."

Hermione had no idea what to say. She felt for her best girlfriend, yet thought what she had said was spot on. There was nothing for her to say.

Later when they unpeeled themselves from the floor, Ginny shyly asked if Hermione would hold her tonight. So, they spent the night together, hoping to keep the night terrors away. Hermione had one last thought before falling into restless sleep.

"What is it with mental meltdowns tonight?"

Her mental musings halted as the group started to leave the table. Hermione held out a hand and stopped everyone.

She did not even bother to glare. Her look promised she _might_ _not_ kill them if they disobeyed her, but that she probably would.

"What you saw last night is not to be talked about to anyone not here now. The war should have taught you not to blab secrets around. Understood?"

The return nods were unnecessary. The she-wolf had spoken.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The Magnificent Seven were gathered in the same, but now clean, room when Snarfarg and Makfang arrived with Head Mistress McGonagall. The _rorostarchus_ forms had been cleaned by Ginny and were ready.

McGonagall regarded the forms with interest. Snarfarg started by talking to her about the types of spells he thought wizards would need to use as he demonstrated how to make a large wall. First he pointed at spot where the ceiling met a wall and then drew his clawed nail down.

He then swept the claw along the long side of the large panel. The panel expanded to about ten feet by five feet. He explained he first used _mishiu_ magic to measure how tall the wall had to be. Then _drohmadrohma_ magic to expand the panel. _Droghotomus_ was poured into the frame to the one inch mark, the leveling rake smoothed it out. Snarfarg pointed out the rake was enchanted to send excess sand back into the sack. A pass of his hand over the frame, a _kroika_ incantation, and a six-inch thick stone wall appeared in the frame, laying on the floor.

"As you see Headmistress," said Snarfarg. "This is how to make a wall that does nothing. It is uselessly lying on the floor. You need to use wizard spells to measure the height and width the wall panel has to be. A spell to re-size the panel. A sticking charm of some type to keep the sand on a vertical panel and a spell to remove the top, bottom and side of the frame so the new stone would sit on the floor and touch any ceiling and wall stone then a hardening charm keep accidental spell work from damaging the stone.

McGonagall had watched closely as this type of work was new to her also.

She pointed her wand at the ceiling corner and muttered a spell. More pointing at the panel, more muttering. Sand flew into the panel, the rake performed its leveling job, and the Head Mistress then removed the three boards that would touch the existing stone, then levitated the panel vertically into place. A quick wand movement and the sand expanded and transfigured into patterned stone. A _Nolite Obdurare_ charm and a half-thickness, permanent wall piece was done.

"We're going to have to change this somehow. I estimate the sand on that piece of wall weighed almost five-hundred pounds. I sincerely doubt Mr. Potter and Miss Granger together could levitate two pieces per day into place. We would exhaust everyone's magical core by ten ay-em."

"So we are going to change the process from how the goblins do it." McGonagall conjured a chair and sat in it.

"Notes, Miss Granger," McGonagall started. Hermione pulled out a paper pad and a pen. McGonagall let it pass with a raised eyebrow. "I will get the goblins to give us double everything. And you are going to need some more help. If you will come by my office after lunch Miss Granger, we shall send owls to the best Charms students that are planning on returning." At the shifting that statement caused among the seven students, she smiled. "Yes, I know most of you have Outstanding grades in Charms. However, from how you all look, three days of all day spell-casting while cleaning has worn you down to a nub."

"Now," she continued. "First I will teach you the measurement charm, _Metamuru_. Next, to enlarge the sand panels, the _Engorgio Planus._ Then a temporary sticking charm for the sand, _Lignum Unum Harenae._ Remove the frame with an _Autauferate,_ transfigure the sand to stone, and finally a _Nolite Obdurare_ for hardening the stone. A _Sicut Ferum_ to make the stone spell resistant, and we will figure what charms to use for decorations later."

McGonagall stood up. "Master Stone Builder Snarfarg, please make some marks on the floor to show us where the wall sections are to be placed."

"Ladies, Gentlemen, gather round and let us begin."

 **A/N**

Before the Howlers start arriving, Yes I know I have left out a

lot of steps in the wall building. But it was becoming even more boring.

Levels for getting the walls plumb, 'toothing' the panel edges where

they join for more strength, etc. Oh, BTW, I will hex into oblivion the

first person to mention curved walls

I know that PTSD may respond to, but is not cured by sleeping with

another person. However, it is practically FanFic Canon that it does.

So mote be it.


	8. Chapter 8

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 8

All recognizable characters belong to JKR.

It's her sandbox, but sometimes we are allowed to build things in it with

those neat plastic, interlocking blocks.

And not receive any money for the effort.

If I ate stress for breakfast, my stomach would explode 

For the next three weeks Harry thought he had died and returned as a house elf. There were nights that as he fell asleep, he wished he could talk to Dobby and compare slaving for McGonagall versus slaving under Lucius Malfoy. Without the ironing his fingers part, of course.

The Seven had started on the grunt work of finishing the cleaning and creating walls according to the goblin drawn plan. The work halted after the half dozen wall sections the goblins had laid out when no one understood what all the lines drawn on the dozen large sheets of parchment meant. Harry's comment of how it all looked like Greek to him was met with withering scorn from the Charms and Arithmancy students. They had learned Greek, because it was a language used in spell crafting.

Padma came up with a two-part solution. With Makfang correcting her, she drew all the wall sections in various colored inks depending on how thick or how tough the wall needed to be. Pillars and load bearing walls were colored coded and details of bases and pillar caps were labeled and models made so that instead of looking through the parchment sheets to find the proposed detail work, a tap of a wand would expand the drawing label to easy reading size and the appropriate model was nearby to copy.

Hermione managed to come up with the solution for keeping the _droghostomus_ on a vertical wall without levitating it into place. By making a panel flat on the floor, with a mild Sticking Charm on the sand, then using a Switching spell on a duplicate panel with no sand on it where the wall was to be, the group started being able to triple their wall output before hitting magical exhaustion. The most magically tiring work was the sheer power the transfiguration spell needed to create a wall that would not revert back to sand in two or three months. The students had only so many `powerful intent' castings in them each day, and someone still had to do all the needed additional charms spellwork. McGonagall was testing the strength of the transfiguration spells every day and the walls were failing about one-quarter of the time and had to be removed the next morning, and transfigured again.

A threatened talk with the Headmistress got the goblins to provide a 'Standard Door Opening' _droghostomus_ section so all the doors and frames they were going to have to transfigure would all fit.  
Of all people, it was Ginny who asked the question,' how in Morgana's Soggy Knickers' were they going to build the stairs shown on the plans?  
 _Another_ meeting with the sneering Snarfarg lead to a Harry headache and an assurance that goblins would perform the complicated work of building the stairways that were so obviously beyond the capabilities of mere wand wavers.

He knew that actually he was not slaving his life away. When Gringotts would owl him for meetings once or twice a week, Harry would take half a day to floo to London and take care of business. Most times he took the `Formidable Mistress' Granger with him because for some unknown reason, the goblins seemed to _like_ her. And he didn't dare leave her if he planned on going to Potter House to visit Tilitsy. Hermione was horrified at how many years the house elf had been alone and had appointed herself to become her friend. Harry had discovered through Tilitsy that magical portraits of his paternal grandparents were in one of the sitting rooms. The pair of them could have spent days talking about Harry's parents with Tilitsy, Fleamont and Euphemia. It was only his sense of duty to McGonagall and Hogwarts that dragged him away from talking to them for days on end.

Thinking of Narcissa. Her, Andromeda, the Goblins and the promoted Mr. Weasley were working to keep the lid on by stalling, stalling and stalling the families and the Ministry about the status of the Death Eater families so that Harry could prove he was who conquered their Head of House during the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry was trying real hard to not remember that `conquered' meant killed, and the Vaults, Houses, families and all they owned or contained could be his by Right of Conquest. At the urging of Reaverfromshadow he had engaged a firm of wizard solicitors to prove his claims. He and Hermione were also spending time researching in the Hogwarts, Potter and Black libraries, trying to find old Wizengamot laws pertaining both to Right of Conquest and if needed, Rite of Conquest.

Harry and Hermione wanted to break the cycle of rising Dark Lords by depriving them of financial support from as many Dark PureBlood families as possible. The plan he was working towards was for to him to be able to personally give the titles, and demand fealty from, the new Head of Family, Lord or Whatever to himself or House Potter. William the Conqueror had handed defeated titles and lands to his followers in 1066. Harry figured on doing the same. Invoke powerful family oaths and magic, some loaned from the notoriously brutal Black family, and the new Heads and their Heirs should be safe from violence or assassination. When the shite-storm THAT plan would create in the Wizengamot occurred, Harry figured he was going to be spending weeks trapped in the Wizengamot chambers fighting for his political, and maybe literal, life.

And some of his time had to be spent down at the destroyed Quidditch pitch. Ron had returned about a week ago from his Quidditch pitch grand tour. With some help from Hermione, he at least had a rudimentary schedule prepared as to the time and tasks he needed to get done. Hermione had produced a set of construction plans for the spectator stands, bought with some of the galleons she had bullied Harry out of last month. Junior Account Manager Bloodslash had persuaded a goblin Iron Master to apprise Ron as to the cost of some high stress fittings needed where magic was considered not permanent enough to hold the stands together. A pleasant surprise had been the goblin's willingness to trade some of his work for all the iron pieces from the burned stadium. The difference was going to be made up by more of those Hermione-bullied-out-of-Harry galleons.

Neville had come to Harry in the tent last week to ask for his help as neither he nor Ron was skilled enough perform some of the work. A couple of good side effects occurred from this. Neville started hanging out at the tent several nights a week, which allowed Harry and Hermione to try to pick Neville's brain on getting his grandmother to help Harry in the chaotic politics in the Ministry created by the war. She had become Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and having her sympathetic to the agenda of Lord Potter-Black would be a huge help. Secondly, as the tent got crowded when the Charms specialists arrived, the Distinguished Guest quarters Neville had been living in had space available for the young males.

The girls still preferred the tent.  
Hermione quietly confided to Harry that the girls were actively working on breaking down the old house boundaries.  
And part of that was because of Harry. Hermione had a set rotation of witches to sleep the night with Harry. Susan, Padma and Hermione became his nightly Snuggle Witch's. (And if Hermione ever found who had coined that term, she was going to feed them to the Giant Squid. In small pieces.) She had also made it known that sleeping with Harry was a privilege, and snogging Harry or shagging Harry or sucking Harry off would result in Marietta Edgecombe-type reveal.

McGonagall had persuaded five more students who were prodigious charms students to join the Eighth Year dormitory construction. The first arrivals a little over a week ago, were Roger Malone from Hufflepuff, and a pair of Ravenclaws, Lilith Moon and Oliver Rivers. Harry was surprised, although Hermione wasn't, when her roommate for six years, Sophie Roper showed up. Slytherin was represented by Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis. Greengrass had been invited, Davis had tagged along. When asked why she had shown up with her blonde year mate, the deep brunette haired Davis had replied "Daphne should not be let outside without a minder. That's me." The glare Greengrass shot at her friend really didn't contain any heat though.

Anthony, after a quiet word from Harry, had taken the time to haul Malone and Rivers down to the Three Broomsticks for supper, drinks and to tell them the `Way it Was' in the tent and on the work crews.

It boiled down to:  
One, be polite during work. They've been doing this for weeks, so listen to the others about what has to be done and how.  
Two, be polite in the tent. Every one of those women fought in the Battle. You piss them off and they will _hurt_ you. You will be lucky to wake up in a week.  
Three, when you notice that Harry has a witch sleeping with him most nights, ignore it. Hermione the Alpha Bitch, has made damn sure that there is no shagging going on in his bed. She says it helps control his nightmares.

Raised eyebrows had greeted the first two pronouncements. Muttered scoffing and shoulder pushing greeted the last. Anthony kept talking for twenty minutes and another round of mead, but he had a feeling the pair had not caught on to the changes that had arrived at Hogwarts.

At Hermione's invitation, the four newly arrived young women were gathered with the five `old timers' around the sitting room of the tent. She had told Harry to grab his broom and go fly for an hour while the girls did some `bonding'.  
Bonding may have been stretching the term. All the girls regarded the ex-Slytherins with glaring distrust. Susan, Ginny and Padma unabashedly had hands in their pockets clutching their wands. It took fifteen minutes of hard questions being asked of the pair of snakes before answers were accepted. Specifically, had they fought, or hauled casualties from the battles, and who would vouch that they had done so. Finally, after some satisfactory answers, peace offering butterbeers were handed around.

Hermione brought out her scheduling notebook and bluntly asked the four new comers if they wanted to sleep with Harry Potter.  
That sentence produced absolute silence in the tent.  
"Now that I have your attention," Hermione dead panned, "This is a serious question."  
"Granger, are you fuckin' kidding me?" blurted Tracey Davis.  
"No, but there will be no fu . . shagging going on during your horizontal time in his four-poster."  
"And just how do you intend to enforce your puritanical view on Lord Potter's sex life?" drawled a smirking Daphne Greengrass.  
"I already have." Hermione replied, widening her eyes innocently. "Anybody giving him more than a peck on the lips will find that I have hexed his bed to mark the . . violator."  
"And if I decided not to play your sick little game and just break the charm?" glared the ice blue Greengrass eyes.

Flat, deadly brown ice met ice blue. "Well, if you try, I will know. If you succeed, I will know. If you want to find out the tripping point of the hex, everyone will know. And you will not be here because you will be home and your family will be spending a pile of galleons on a curse breaker."  
Hermione drew a deep breath.  
"There is a point to this," she continued. "The-Man-Who-Saved-All-Our-Ass's has a severe case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. In simple language, his nightly nightmares are common and brutal, and this is a way to both thank him and help his sanity."  
Hermione looked at the assembled witches. Moon and Roper were looking mostly mildly confused. Greengrass was looking daggers and Davis looked somewhere between horrified and concerned.  
"Post Trau . . tra what?" a confused Lilith Moon said.

Hermione sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.  
"Question time. Of you four, who actually fought Death Eaters during the battle?  
Greengrass, "I did."  
Davis, "I did."  
Moon and Roper shook their heads No.  
They looked at each other and Lilith said, "We were sent to the Hufflepuff dormitory and told to guard a bunch of little ones that didn't manage to escape. We were the last ditch if any Death Eaters tried attacking them. I think I was sent there because all I ever got was Acceptables in DADA."  
"Did you see the carnage afterwards in the Great Hall?"  
"No, we were in a group sent to the top three floors in the west wing to look for wounded and . . bodies."  
"Did you find any?" came Hermione's remorseless voice  
"Yeah. Mostly Death Eaters. But several adults we didn't know, a Hufflepuff we didn't know, and Madame Hooch."  
Lilith's eyes started to water at the last.  
"Do you sometimes see them in your dreams?" voiced Hermione softly.  
Lilith just looked down and nodded.  
Sophie would not look at anybody when she said, "Yes."

"Multiply that by a thousand and you now have Harry's routine nightmares."

"I am going to leave now. Susan and Ginny can explain further how this will work. Maybe hearing about the rules from someone you do not consider to be a stone bitch will make you understand."  
Hermione took two steps towards the tent doorway, then turned around, looked directly at the two ex-Slytherans with a smirk on her face.  
"For those who do not believe I have the skill or am nasty enough to follow up on my no sex or else threat, ask any Ravenclaw about Marietta Edgecombe during fifth year."  
And with that final salvo, she strolled out of the tent.

Later that evening after dinner a more pleasant surprise happened. A conversation around the dining table had started about the number of bedrooms planned for the Eight's was adequate.  
Suddenly a voice came from the tent entrance. "Harry Potter, you have the worst Gibbering Humblinger infection that I have ever seen!"  
Without looking up and suppressing a smile, he replied, "Do you have any methods of removing this obviously odious infection from me?"  
"Of course I do," came the light, spacey voice. "But since the solstice is past, it will be more difficult and take a dozen plus one fairies, three Galstoffian runic  
circles and we will have to perform the ritual skyclad."

The Ravenclaws looked resigned, the 'Puffs confused, Ginny was grinning and Hermione just closed her eyes.  
"However, what has to be done must proceed in the proper order." While talking, one of Harry's favorite people walked over to him, placed her left hand  
under his chin, tilted his face up and soundly kissed him.  
Harry was so shocked by the unexpected assault upon his lips, it took him a few seconds to start kissing back. It was a very nice kiss, but it did seem to be lacking in clothes dropping passion.

After about fifteen seconds, she broke the kiss and rested her forehead on Harry's and stared into his eyes.  
"I wanted to thank you Harry for rescuing me from the Malfoy dungeon, and for putting down that rabid monster whom would have killed us all."  
"You are most welcome, my lovely MoonChilde. However, am I to assume your being here is not a social call?"  
"Of course not, Man-of-Way-Too-Many hyphenated names. I volunteered to keep Ginny company before you older men attempt to take advantage of her sweet youth."  
Seeing Harry flushing red, Ginny had to work on not laughing.  
Harry was embarrassed, but rallied gamely. "I see," he replied in a very solemn voice. "What if however, someone wishes to, um, `take advantage' of the chaperon to the lovely younger woman?"  
Ginny was working very hard at not laughing. Hermione's starting grin was instantly replaced with a un-noticed small scowl.  
"If they are smooth enough to talk their way into my knickers, Sir, I suppose they could talk their way into hers also."  
Ginny had quit laughing and looked like a bludger had hit her, and remained that way even after a smirking Luna walked over and plopped down beside her on the couch.

After some head shakes and some amused grins, the people in the sitting room started up on the interrupted topic.  
"I still think the Goblins planned this and they don't think in human wizard terms," stated Anthony.  
Padma spoke up next. "If we are interpreting these squiggles properly, and our estimate of how many women we will have here, there is not enough of anything. Not rooms, not toilets, showers or sinks." "And," she finished with a huff, "not enough mirrors either!"  
The last drew some chuckles from the guys until the female glares leveled their way were noticed.

The chuckles went away.

"Okay," Harry sighed. "What is our best guess as to how many Eighth Years we are going to have back?"  
Everyone looked at Hermione. "Nine Hufflepuffs, eight Ravenclaws, seven Gryffindors and three Slytherins. That's twenty-nine. Fourteen women, fifteen men."  
"For the women, that's triple the number we are used to having to share a bathroom with. That's triple, you knuckle dragging trolls," finished Padma.  
The last was directed at the males nearby. And so were the follow-up glares. After all, it was _always_ some males fault.  
Harry held his hands up, palms forward. "Alright, alright. Padma, since you seem to be our designer in training, grab any interested girls and sit 'em down over there. Come up with an accurate drawing of how many sleeping rooms and how many baths you need."  
"Can we include tubs?"  
"You can include anything you want. Just remember, _WE_ have to build it. Try to keep it simple. If a group of you can't build it, it won't get built.

"Anything else?" sighed Harry.  
"Yeah. Have you looked at this part of the drawing?" said Hermione tapping on the large parchment. The small area expanded so it could be easily read.  
"Looks like a pair of bedrooms, a small common room and an ensuite bathroom that you enter through this door on the corridor," said Anthony.  
"No, this," pointed Hermione.  
"It says Head of House Suite. Oh, shite. Are we going to have a professor living with us?" whinged the newly arrived Sophie Roper.  
That complaint lead to a general grumbling about Why Us? Merlin, we're all emancipated.

The grumbling was cut off with an axe when Luna spoke.  
"Might be they are worried a bunch of fast-hexing paranoids from the War are going to be gathered together in close quarters. And they might be correct. Several of us are none too stable right now.  
That's right," snarled Ginny only half in jest. "You mess with me after a nightmare from my being tortured by the Carrows last year, and I WILL super-size my Bat-Bogey Hex."

The gathering winced in unison. Everyone there had seen her nail someone with her signature hex.  
Fortunately, the tension was defused neatly by Luna smiling. "But, if you sweet talk her instead of mess with her, her knick . . ."

"LUNA!"

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO 

Next morning.

"Alright." Hermione raised her voice. "There are fourteen of us, so we are going to split into three teams of four to five each so the newcomers can learn what has to be done. Some of this work is manual labor. That means done by hand. No magic used. If your hands get sore, conjure or transfigure some gloves. Or perhaps Heiress Greengrass will let you _Geminio_ those stylish gloves she is wearing." The two traded completely insincere smiles with each other. "Back on track. If you object to doing some of the work, I will have the Headmistress send you home, and you will miss out on all those lovely NEWT extra credit points."

She continued. "The reason for not using magic for certain actions is actually simple. You cannot break anything here UNLESS you use magic and bugger it up. The goblins, being goblins, will be slow to replace any of the molds or parts you break and will vastly overcharge Headmistress McGonagall to replace the item. Everyone got that?" Nods all around. "Good."

"Now, first we . . ."

It was during lunch in the tent that Hermione grabbed Harry and lead him through the main doors for a walk in the warm sunshine outside.  
"You know," she started. "You and A.T. were right about goblins not building for wizards. Now that I can understand the plans, I think we should change them. A lot."  
"Besides," she continued with an impish smile growing on her face, "Why can't we put a few, oh, say, little luxuries in our dorm?"  
Harry just looked flabbergasted. "Huh?"  
"Well, for starters, I think we should install a mini-prefects bath for ourselves down at the end of the corridor. Also move that library over to our side of the corridor because I now believe Ginny's right. We will end up with a Veterans dormitory, and I want to put it on the left side of the corridor beyond Fluffy's room. Back on the Eight's side, how about a mini-cafeteria with a kitchen for those who don't want to lose time hiking all the way to the Great Hall for every meal?"

Hermione was cheating with the last. The Great Hall was where the most vicious fighting at the end had taken place, and there were some horrific memories best not to be recalled that lingered there.  
She was willing to put galleons at long odds that, like Harry, there would be others who would prefer to avoid the Great Hall and some other places personal to them.

There was one other reason why Hermione was going to press hard for the last change. Harry was the worst case of manic-depressive battle fatigue in the group, but several others were showing the symptoms, herself included. On top of her PTSD symptoms, she was getting a crash course in how being `On Stage' all the time, every day, in public, was tiresome. She had always sympathized with Harry, since the very beginning, about how he hated the attention that went with being The-Boy-Who-Lived. Now _she_ was getting publicity, and literal FanBoy, and some FanGirl, attention as a Member of the Golden Trio, The Brightest Witch of Her Age and Companion-to-the-Boy-Who-Conquered. The worst were the condescending PureBlood marriage proposals she was receiving. She wanted to curse every damn one of the writers.

She was going to make sure being `occupied with Head Girl duties' would get her some relief occasionally.

Harry had perked up at her last. As much as he liked the house elf prepared food at Hogwarts, the idea of being able to occasionally make is own favorite foods like Farmers Omelets or Chicken Parmasian was seductive.  
"How do we get the food though? The school budget is going to be really strained this year even with the Ministry paying for the repairs. It shouldn't take a lot of galleons, but I'd still figure McGonagall won't go for it. I'll bet the house elves can get really good deals on food stuffs though," Harry mused.  
"There's twenty-nine of us plus some Seventh Year Veterans who'll probably toss some galleons into a pot for food. Do you think five galleons each might cover costs over the ten months?" Hermione replied. (1)  
"I don't know, but Kreacher or Tilitsy should."

"We have to get back. We'll present the idea tonight. I think they'll go for it." She looped her arm up over his shoulders. "I mean, what's a little hard work when you're amongst friends?"  
That night, a meeting of the Eights was called with the pair of Seventh Years being graciously included. Hermione, with Harry backing her up, laid out the plan for `Little Extras' that she wanted to add to the plan. She had already had some quiet words with the other witches while toiling on that afternoons walls. They were all totally enthusiastic. The PureBlooods and those with galleons to melt, wanted back some of the luxuries they had at home, but were denied ten months a year at school. The rest thought having a bunch of luxuries for the first time was great. The weak objections about the extra work involved by Rivers and Malone were quickly quelled by the sight of ten glaring witches idly twirling their wands in their hands.

They would get extra credit for it, right?

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO 

It had been a week ago that Kreacher had popped in to Harry with a request to speak to his Master. One item had been the relay of a request from Tilitsy that she be allowed to recruit house elves from Hogwarts to serve the Potter family. Harry postponed a decision on her request until he could talk about it to McGonagall. As he understood the situation, the elves were bonded to the school through the headmaster or mistress which allowed them to use the magic of Hogwarts to perform their magic. House elves bonded thusly were not as powerful or as happy as those bonded to a family or person.

Second, the old elf had asked permission from Lord Black to leave Hogwarts after school started and to acquire an apprentice elf for him to take to Grimmauld Place to train up as his replacement.  
Harry had been surprised by the Kreacher's request. It reeked of fore knowledge that Harry shied away from. He also stalled Kreacher by claiming to having to talk to McGonagall first.

Later in the day, seeing the tent sitting room was empty, he brought up the requests by his two bonded house elves to Hermione. He did so with trepidation, as he full well knew her feelings on house elf slavery.  
Surprise seemed to be the order of the day, as instead of ranting at Harry for continuing the enslavement of house elves, she merely nodded.

"Harry, you know I have kept looking into the enslavement of house elves. During my research, I found there was a treaty regarding house elves in 987 A.D., with the Wizard's Advisory Assembly before there was a Wizengamot. It states that the magical creatures, known as House Elf's cannot be executed or killed. If they are dismissed from their servitude to a family or person, they can receive asylum at Hogwarts. I find it ironic that the same arrogant PureBloods, who lord their knowledge of the magical world over us, do not know that Hogwarts as a place of asylum exists."

"When I was having tea last week with Headmistress McGonagall, she mentioned that there was a surfeit of house elves coming to the school because so many had lost their masters in the war."  
Harry looked confused.  
"What she meant was there are going to be too many house elves for the work available at Hogwarts once the repairs are done. And even I have grown to understand that house elves are happiest when working their ears off."

Harry may have been looking in Hermione's direction but she could tell he was not looking at her. His mind was occupied with some thought that had occurred to him. It was a full minute before he returned to the world.  
"Hermione, could you go over your membership of the old DA and list out their blood status?  
And contact Headmistress McGonagall that Lord Potter-Black and Lord Longbottom request a meeting of an hour or so in length."

"Okay, Harry," said Hermione. "But what have you just thought about?"  
"You know how we've been talking about placing our own people as Lords over the Right of Conquest houses?"  
Hermione nodded.  
"Do you think our possible allies could use a house elf or two for help or prestige?  
"Time we found out if some elves would want to work for a family if they are bonded, yet paid, and free to leave if mistreated or abused."

And with conspiratorial smirks at each other, they proceeded to leave the tent.

Neither had seen the girl who was hidden because she had been dozing stretched out on one of the couches. And who now had a very thoughtful look on her face.

 **A/N**

 **5 galleons eq. 150 pounds sterling eq. about $250 US. (1998)**

 **Again in a WiFi hole. Had to drive into town to upload.**

 **Next chapter in two weeks**


	9. Chapter 9

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 9 (6.9)

J.K. Rowling owns the rights to Harry Potter

I mostly enjoy the writing but make no money from the HP world

Black is Black, Let's get the family back

Harry, Hermione, Andromeda and Narcissa were gathered at 12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry had already met with his "cousins" before. Hermione is still a little freaked out by how much Andromeda resembles her younger sister Bellatrix. And Narcissa Malfoy as an ally? The summer just kept getting stranger.

"We are running out of time, Lord Potter-Black," Narcissa asserted. "We dodged the bludger of the Wizengamot's Summer Solstice meeting last month. It was postponed by a lack of a quorum. Andi, Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley allied, and then cajoled and in two cases, called in favors for members not to show up. But even with Minister Shacklebolt as an ally, his grip on power will get shakier unless the Ministry gets its hands on a quantity of gold. And most of those families that you are claiming as Right of Conquest have a goodly amount in their vaults. The Quiet Death Eaters will start offering to give up considerable galleons in fines as long as their alliance gets control of those families."

Harry was puzzled. "What happened to all the gold in the known Death Eater vaults? The Malfoys, Lestranges and the Notts? There should have been enough galleons in those vaults to fund the Ministry for, like, ever."

After a shared look, Narcissa was the sister to speak.

"The Malfoy vaults had been almost emptied by Voldemort to fund his war. Same with the Nott, the Flint and Carrow vaults. Most of the rest of the marked Death Eaters were like the Crabbe's and Goyle's. They were not wealthy families. Only the Lestrange vaults had significant gold left in them."

"Even by stripping Death Eater families to the last knut, the Ministry probably only has enough money to run for about a year. The Wizengamot will panic long before that."

Andromeda continued, "Unfortunately, we are starting to see the beginnings of the remaining rabid blood purists threatening people. We do not think they will have enough members to force a full emergency Wizengamot meeting in August so they will work towards the September Equinox meeting cycle."

"Their agenda will be to force recognition of their candidates to take over and become the new heads of every family that no longer has a head, or an heir, due to death in the late war."

"Their chances?" asked Harry quietly."

"Getting better every day. Somehow we have to reassure the `fence sitters', the Neutrals, that we are not wild-eyed, revenge minded Muggleborn radicals, who intend to murder every PureBlood in their sleep, or who will throw the survivors into Azkaban. We are starting to get anonymous flyers stuck up occasionally portraying Muggles and Muggleborn just as they were portrayed during Voldemort's reign. The Prophet is rife with bribes being paid to write `news' fresh out of the old Death Eater agenda. The economy is sinking because the Death Eaters made special targets of any successful businessmen. The real smart ones left the country two years ago. Others died when they were deemed Light supporters, or lost their businesses when the Death Eaters waltzed in and took everything in sight, or couldn't pay the ruinous bribes to try to stay in business."

"The Death Eaters were nothing except brutish brutality. They had no idea how to run an economy or a country. All they ever lusted for was the power to control those they considered beneath them and to cause pain."

The economic trouble was news to Harry. He was spending his time in his own bubble world at Hogwarts, and had been taking little notice of the wider wizarding world.

Andromeda spoke up. "Harry, everything is intertwined. There is no real hunger yet, but people with no jobs are worried they will be soon out in the street with no food soon. Because business is so poor, there are fewer taxes being paid to the Ministry. The Ministry is cutting back on everything. No hiring, no rebuilding, except for Hogwarts. And even Hogwarts cannot afford to pay all the people who want to work on the re-building."

Narcissa picked up the thread. "The Ministry has actually become more corrupt than normal because the bureaucrats usual bribery revenue has been cut off. And some of the old families with gold see an opportunity gain even more power by eliminating any future business competition, so they are bribing them to keep others from starting any new business. It is very easy for a bureaucrat to claim a form was filled out incorrectly, or was misfiled somewhere."

"Probably the worst, most insidious, result of this naked PureBlood `We have the gold, so we make the rules' clutch at keeping their power, is that ordinary wizards and witches are falling back into the habit of thinking they cannot disagree with the Ministry without getting hurt somehow," followed Andromeda. "We are losing momentum for change with the wizard and witch in the alley."

"Is this part of what Reaverfromshadow has been saying?" puzzled Harry. "That the unmarked Voldemort supporters have decided that the war isn't over and are working to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat?"

"Exactly," returned Narcissa. "Always remember Harry. The Wizengamot may pass laws, but how the laws are executed is up to the permanent ministry bureaucracy. A law they want, or like, is implemented full measure. A law they do not want is enforced poorly or sporadically."

"And the bureaucracy is in the ironfisted grip of the PureBloods."

The three women sat silent as Harry sat in thought.

"First, can we make a list of Moldyvarts unmarked backers? And then can we start a whispering campaign, with some anonymous leaflets of our own, to get people to shun those families and any products they get there gold from? I know that some of the worst families control the market for stuff everyone needs, but maybe it will hurt them a little."

"Next, does the Order still have anyone in the Auror Corps? If so, can we feed them information on Ministry corruption? Who else besides Rita Skeeter, can we get to publicize any bad apples we expose? Again, since this paper war is being fought dirty as ever, I will settle for innuendo and possible scandal if it pressures the corrupt Death Eater sympathizers."

Narcissa had started slowly nodding her head as Harry spoke.

"Yes, I know several people who took money from Lucius who are still at the Ministry. I doubt they have changed their ways. In fact, I would be willing to wager they are actively looking for `donations' to keep them in their accustomed life style. The Death Eaters did not bribe and cajole. They demanded and took. Without Lucius' flowing galleons, perhaps we can entrap some of them."

Hermione spoke into the following silence. "In muggle history after every war there has been an economic downturn. Who do we know that are smart, savvy business men who if financed, would be willing to start producing . . . I don't know, something. I know our world doesn't use large manufacturing complexes. We are a world of small craftsman shops. But somebody buys and ships food, creates wizard houses and rents store fronts on Diagon Alley. None of us here know how to do that. Let's get allies who can. AND do it with lots of publicity."

Harry sat with his head planted in his hands. Again the three women kept his silence.

"Alright. First, Andi, get a meeting with Kingsley. Tell him it's at my request. Use him as a source for trustworthy people we can work with. Two, Narcissa, start using our Order members in the Auror Corps for any information they might have `accidently' discovered about any bribery, corruption and theft at the Ministry. Who do we know that might help us get some influence with the new Head of the DMLE? Include Skeeter as a source. Lean on her using my name. Or, better, pay Skeeter to cast some aspersions on someone we know is taking bribes, but we can't quite prove it. Yet.

For anyone who waffles, get Mr. Weasley to vouch for you, and you can use my name as a sweetener. You have my permission to spend, let's call it `influence money', in unreasonable amounts if it nets our fish."

"Harry," Hermione demurred. "That's entrapment. The charges will never stick."

Harry's return look was positively wolfish.

"There are no laws against entrapment in the wizarding world."

He continued on. "As a final incentive, do you think the possibility of obtaining a house elf would sway some fence sitters to vote our way?"

"Harry!" Hermione gasped. "You wouldn't give them to Dark Families . . ."

"Of course not. But, a family could be given the opportunity to contract for the services of a _paid_ house elf. Written contract, rules for their treatment, arbitration for disputes, a retirement plan, or whatever you think they might need to protect them. Remember what McGonagall said?"

Hermione looked thoughtful, the Black sisters looked like they had never considered the idea of free house elves. Or of using them for political advantage.

"So, ladies. Please find time to discuss with the goblins how much it would cost to set up an Elves For Hire company, and how much we could charge for their services. A steady stream of PureBlood gold flowing through their hands should get the goblins . . very interested."

"And lastly, do the two of you have any other recommendations to add or subtract from that list of candidates for the Lordships and Head of House's I should gain from Right of Conquest? Let me know any changes or other choices you might want to include and then we will proceed to set up meetings with _their_ Heads of House to see if they will let us pilfer their second or third heirs . . "And that one Heiress" . . and the one heiress we need to fill my obligations."

"Lastly, do NOT let me get trapped by a marriage contract that might have written for any of the families, or might have been activated by the deaths of so many Lords, Heirs or any women or girls in the households."

"All set? Hermione, get with Luna and . . . On second thought let's go talk to her after we are done here."

The three women met his gaze around the table.

"Now, Hermione would you wait for me outside? Please? I need to speak family business with Madam Black and Madam Black."

Hearing his change from Andi and Narcissa to the formal Madam Black, she stood and with a look Harry couldn't interpret, walked out, closing the door behind her.

"Narcissa Annalise Black, your Lord needs to know if you can willingly carry out the charge I have laid upon you. From my point of view, I am asking you to betray your upbringing as a Black, and the culture you raised in. I need absolute commitment. This work cannot be half-arsed. Can you perform your requested duty to your Lord? If not, I will simply gift you with another caldron full of galleons and send you to the continent where you may pursue your life as you deem fit."

As Harry started speaking, Narcissa had froze her features. As he continued, what little colour her face contained, drained to a pure white. By the end of the speech, despite decades of PureBlood training, the blood came roaring back into her face, flushing it bright red. Her hands became claw-like on the table. The gasp from Andromeda was audible even through the roaring in her ears.

"My Lord Black," she started with a low growly voice that she hardly knew she possessed.

Harry stopped her with a palm out raised hand. He turned to Andromeda.

"Andromeda Tonks Black, tell me, how severely have I just insulted your sister?"

Andromeda had to visible settle herself. "Most severely, my Lord Black. In fact for anyone else to have insulted her this deeply, she could ask for satisfaction on the Dueling Stage to the death."

Harry blinked. Bloody hell. The muggle raised ignorant clod had just face planted himself in the steaming cow patty again.

"Please explain to me just how I should know that your sister willingly can carry out the tasks assigned her?"

"If you had been raised a Black, trained to be a Black, you would know that the ancient Family Magics imbued in the oath to Lord Black would impel her to do her utmost any task requested by her Lord."

"Are you telling me I have removed her free will?" Harry felt sick.

"No. She could have refused the task, and whereas you could punish her refusal, you cannot compel compliance if her will is against your demands. At the same time, if she accepts the task, Black family magic will compel her to perform the work to the best of her ability."

"Thank you, Andi." Harry returned his attention to Narcissa's seething face. Grabbing his Gryffindor courage in both hands, he started speaking.

"Madam Narcissa Annalise Black, your Lord Black offers his most humble, heartfelt apology for my inadvertent slur upon your honour. In return for your forgiveness, and so that I should inadvertently never repeat such a slur, I will offer myself to you for formal instruction in the Black Family and wizard culture for, two hours per week until school starts again."

Harry managed to sit quietly in his chair as he watched Narcissa struggle with her reactions to his screw up. He could see she wanted to curse him past an inch of his life, but if Hermione's interpretation of the oath was correct, his being Lord Black would prevent that occurrence.

Narcissa was beyond livid.

Oh, she so wanted to curse the young snot seated in front of her. She knew that he had insulted her from ignorance, but claiming ignorance was NOT a free pass from all bad or boorish behavior. The PureBlood, raised in the House of Black, refined by the mask decades worn as Lady Malfoy, so badly wanted to have him lying in pieces, literally, at her blood soaked feet.

Yet, the training ingrained into her from birth prevented her from grasping her wand to do just that. She barely heard his apology through the seething _want_ for his destruction. It took almost a minute for the apology, and its offer of penance, to be noticed by her forebrain.

"That muggle raised, Halfblood fool," she fumed. "He does not even know that a Black NEVER apologizes. Right or wrong, NEVER." The PureBlood raised and trained part of her brain finally registered his penance offer.

Harry could actually see in Narcissa's eyes when the offer to learn PureBlood customs and mores registered. They cycled from rage to feral to calculating to triumph. Harry instantly knew this was going to be more painful then he originally thought.

As her PureBlood mask of contemptuous superiority slid onto her face, she spoke. "Of course, My Lord, I shall be pleased to teach you the . . . basics of Our Family and PureBlood wizarding culture. Shall we meet here at three o'clock Sunday afternoon for tea and your first lesson?"

Trapped by his innate fairness, Harry nodded and said, "That will be acceptable, Narcissa. I may bring a Muggleborn friend some of the time for instruction also."

Narcissa tilted her head in acquiescence.

"If there are no other problems? Good. Hermione and I have places we need to be."

And with that, Lord Black strode to the door and the two Black witches could hear him speaking to her before the door closed.

"Do you believe he will convince her to join him in his lessons with you?" Andromeda said, cocking her head at her sister.

"If she does not, we will have to subtly convince him, to convince her, to come. Harry is smart enough to know what he does not know. Her? She has been told for all her life books have the answers to everything. I do not know if she has learned how un-true that is."

"Did you notice her error when she assumed that wizards have a home building industry as muggles do?"

Narcissa slowly nodded her head. "Yes. If she talks the same way to Greengrass or Stilton, they will never take her seriously again."

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

As the door opened, Hermione took a look at Harry's thunderous face and kept quiet. Harry strode half a dozen paces down the hall, then stopped and leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed.

"Hermione," he said. "Remember in the woods and the cold, when we were miserable and at our wits end, we would talk about how would change the world when we won? How with Voldemort gone, we would be able to get rid of those who demanded we bow to them because of their family blood, not their accomplishments?

"Yes Harry, I remember," she said quietly.

"Well, we missed a couple of things. One, we never figured on the number of _women_ who will support the current system because it is all they have ever known. Two, we believed the PureBlood Establishment would just reform its self when we won because we were on the side of Light and Justice."

Hermione kept silent as Harry paused. It was one of the hardest lessons of her life, but she had finally learned to not immediately fill silence with her observations and opinions. She idly wondered if it was maturity or caution hard won from the war.

"Today, right now," he finally continued, "I have decided there are only two paths we can take. We can attempt a bloody French-style revolution in a year or so and try to rebuild from the wreckage. Or, we are going to have to wage a decades long war of attrition in the Wizengamot and at Hogwarts. Either way, what little chance I ever had at having a normal life being "just Harry", will be gone forever."

"Oh, God," she thought. "Please do not let him think the first option is do-able. Many of us would follow, but it would kill our souls to do so."

Another thought slid through her mind. "Still a Muggleborn. If I had been raised in a wizarding family, I would have asked Merlin for his intercession to save Harry."

With desperate times calling for desperate measures, she walked up to her greatest friend and gathered him into a medium strength hug, burying her face in his shoulder.

In return, Harry buried his head in her bushy brunette hair, inhaling the calming vanilla scent as needed balm for his soul.

It was several wordless minutes before Harry gently pushed her slightly away. Staring into her tear filled warm chocolate eyes, "We should get back to Hogwarts. It's time to unleash Luna Lovegood, investigative reporter extraordinaire, upon the frightened, quivering wrecks in the Ministry. Or at least that is what I hope they will become after Luna sets them up for Rita to take down."

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

It was late afternoon, three days later. Harry and Hermione, both dressed in semi-formal robes, floo'ed into The Three Broomsticks from 12 Grimmauld Place. Both of them looked like they had been run over by a hippogryph. Narcissa somehow, without them leaving the small sitting room she had trained them in, had run them through a combination auror combat training ground and an expensive girls finishing school course that left them exhausted. The lessons ranged from proper tea preparation, presentation and drinking to deportment when walking or sitting. And all of it was done in a controlled manner that left their muscles crying in pain as they staggered into a pair of chairs at a table near the fireplace.

"Tell me again that what we just did is vitally important to the future of the wizarding world," moaned Hermione. At that point she stopped walking, leaned on Harry, took her 4-inch formal heels off, and transfigured them into trainers before slipping them back on her feet.

"Oh, Merlin. I could not go one more step in those. I really wish I had paid attention to Lavender and Parvati when they were talking about cushioning and comfort charms in the dorm the last couple years."

A bleakness entered the pairs eyes as they remembered Lavender, killed by Greyback Fenrir. Both were surprised they would miss Parvati who had already sent word she was not returning to where her dearest friend had been killed.

Harry, once he realized what Hermione was doing, performed the same wand work on his highly polished dress shoes to turn them into trainers.

"It's bad enough my muscles hurt," replied Harry. "But all that PureBlood society acting and trivial, yet important, pecking order information, has given me a ferocious headache."

"Let's get back to the tent. We need pain potions and rest. We told Ron we would help out again tomorrow afternoon," Hermione grimaced as she spoke.

"Yeah. I could use some real food and real sleep. Ready for the climb?"

With a nod of her head, the pair stood and started the long haul up to the school entrance.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Hermione was getting nervous. Her lower lip was almost raw from chewing on it with her teeth. Tonight, for the first time in weeks, the tent was occupied only her and Harry. All the others had been grateful for the weekend off from the re-building effort, and returned home to see parents or siblings they had hardly seen for weeks.

Last night Luna had been the Snuggle Witch, but this morning Ron, Ginny and her had headed off to the Burrow for some Mother Weasley food and hugs, and in Luna's case, a visit to her parents graves.

Her choice was starkly simple. Let Harry be on his own through the night, or join him in his bed.

The `Witches Rotation' had so far worked very well with only a few flubs if Harry's minder had been too deeply asleep to wake him up quickly. And with the charms her and Ginny had placed on his bed, they knew he was not having sex with any of his volunteer snugglers. There was no longer any snickering about Harry having company in his bed.

Rivers and Malone had made a sniggering remark to, of all people, Daphne Greengrass, a couple of weeks ago as she was late leaving Harry's room for her own.

Standing in front of them in her shapeless flannel pajamas and a long dressing robe, she waved her wand over her abdomen and muttered a spell. A glowing white mist had enveloped her abdomen.

"Do you recognize this?" she had asked mildly.

The two boys looked at each other, snickered and said, "No."

"THAT was a proof of virginity spell, you morons," she'd snarled

Suddenly, the pair were petrified, levitated to the ceiling, stuck there and stripped down to their underwear before anyone else moved.

Daphne had examined her work for a moment, disappeared her wand into her dressing robe pocket, given a small nod to Hermione, and glided into her room.

No further remarks had been made by anyone since.

But Ginny had excluded herself from the Rotation, and Hermione only snuggled occasionally, because they did not trust their control over their own traitorous desires for Harry. It was simple. They had loved Harry for years. Not The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice. In their own way, each loved Harry Potter.

"For Harry," she thought as she rummaged in her small beaded bag for a Calming Draught.

She got dressed in the standard sexless flannel pajamas, drank the draught and grabbed a folded blanket from her bed. She was sure that her shaky legs would have given out before she reached Harry's room without the potion.

And all was for naught. Harry was asleep. She stood beside the bed, examining the peaceful looking face of her dearest friend.

She carefully crawled across the bed, covered herself with her blanket and laid her head gently on his shoulder.

"Oh, Harry. I want to try. Will you ever?" she thought as she drifted off.

 **Author Rant:**

Took me a flippin' month to write this chapter, and I still do not like it.

My apologies for the short length, I've lost the bubble with this chapter

and refuse to continue screwing it up further.


	10. Chapter 10

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 10 (Labeled as Ch 8.1 )

All recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling

As I am not making money off her,

she allows me to occasionally play in her sandbox.

This chapter is what you get when an inexperienced writer writes himself into multiple corners.

It is called the "Recapitulation and Information Dump Chapter" in an attempt to fill in the skipped over plot holes and re-tie the skeins of the story into a coherent thread.

I have the feeling that more chapters like this are in my future.

Traveling frantic, all directions blind

July 29, 1998

The first three weeks of Harry feeling like a magical house-elf-in-training had passed.

The next three weeks were more of the same. It was just that house elves were happiest when frantically busy. Harry was not a happy house elf.

Frantically busy?

Hell, yes.

Happy?

No.

Do house elves have birthdays?

Harry wondered if anyone in the tent would be able to stay awake Friday night for his birthday.

The sand to stonework walls had proceeded apace. The work was a mix of boring and magically and physically tiring. The repetition of all the wand movements and spells could lull them into making mistakes. And to survivors of the Hogwarts battle, the thunder of a collapsing wall blocks could send older-than-their-years teenagers diving for cover with wands in hand. A repeat or two of that led to . . . heated finger pointing and some knock-down, drag-out, wands-pulled, hexes flying, contentious discussions, (That's what all the witches involved swore the affrays had been. Just discussions. Honest. After all, Madam Pomfrey had not been needed for any bodily repairs.) the teams had shaken down into smooth operation.

Even after three weeks, the other four guys still managed to rib Harry for having an attack of the stupids when he tried to stop a "discussion" between Sophie Roper and Padma Patil. They thought it had been hilarious how his stunned body had sprouted antlers during his stupefied collapse to the floor of the new hall leading to the Female Dormitory Rooms.

Outside of the ribbing, Harry was most disappointed he had missed the immediate "protect Harry mode" Hermione had exploded into. Everyone else thought the stylish, ichor dripping tentacles that had replaced the two girls legs had been fetching.

And often reminded them so.

Harry was of two minds about Ron and the re-building of the quidditch pitch.

Ron was working hard the days when someone else was able to work at the joke shop. He had worked to get some help from the other House Quidditch teams. And most days he had a helper or two from the pool of players or even just fans.

Hermione, Padma and of all people, Greengrass and Davis, had figured how use the Diffindo Severing Charm to section off the bad soil areas from the good grass nearby. The group then developed a new cross between a Doffodio and a Vanishing Spell to remove the useless burned soil.

Hermione had anticipated the next problem of how to build the stands. She had spent some of those bullied-from-Harry galleons to get a set of actual building plans for the spectator stands.

(Wizarding architects existed. Who knew?)

Ron had managed to get some Quidditch fans and other odds n' sods out to the pitch for the general labor work. They could perform the Accio charm to separate the old iron fittings from the charcoal, but he needed the Charms experts to do the separation cutting. And his groups were good enough to Doffodio and Vanish the old burned dirt and levitate the burned stands charcoal/dragon dung mixture into place.

He was then persuaded to send scavenging groups into the forests for miles around to gather twigs and branches that were then bound together to be transfigured into heavy timber baulks that with goblin ironmongery, could support six story spectator towers.

The last spells to transfigure the bundled twigs into great timber supports were strictly the work of The Magnificent Seven. The others were simply not as powerful as McGonagall's handpicked group. Having a bed turn back into a broken chair would probably not be dangerous and perhaps even funny.

Having a support for a six story spectator tower collapse would be disaster that not even Goblin ironmongery would help.

Harry had a problem with the Quidditch spectator stands work. He was beginning to look at it as just another call on their time and magic that was not being used on the dormitory. He had brought this up to Hermione, expecting her to be sympathetic to his concerns about getting the dormitory finished.

Wrong.

She had virtually dragged him out of the castle by his ear before tearing a strip off him for being a really bad friend and she had even called him a horrid person.

As a shocked, stuttering Harry tried to defend himself and explain to her that he was worried about finishing _their_ work, she shouted right over him.

"Harry James Potter, you better lose that `what I am doing is more important than what you are doing' attitude right bloody now! Ron has been given a job that is very important in the Hogwarts scheme of things." She ranted on, "YOUR friend, is busting his arse trying to perform the near impossible. Your friends biggest problem is not his courage or his heart. It's his fear of failure because he knows he needs help, and the people that could help him are telling him they are too damn busy to help him out. He does not need us to bail him out, he needs us to help him out, damn it!"

"Harry, have you given any thought what succeeding in this will do for Ron? No more will his brothers outshine him. For decades he will be known as the man who rebuilt the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch from ruin. I will bet his jealousy and fear of being only thought of as Harry Potters sidekick will blow away forever. You had better realize that this is the biggest and best opportunity you will ever have to do something tremendous for your best friend!"

"So quit whinging about how stressed and busy you are. Suck it up and start performing like a real friend."

And with that, Hermione stormed off leaving a shocked Harry to ponder another set of new problems associated with his adulthood.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Harry was also still debating whether to be upset or understanding when two weeks ago, in the middle of the month, McGonagall had requested Harry and Hermione stay after working for a meeting in her office. Having climbed the still non-rotating circular stairs, the pair settled into chairs before the Headmistress' desk. It was quite differently decorated compared to the trinket clutter that Dumbledore had during his tenure. More pictures in frames, fewer whirring gizmos and a small vase of white lilies on the left corner of the desk were the obvious changes.

"Biscuits? Tea?" she offered.

The two accepted and were soon nibbling and sipping in as normal way as possible when seated in front of a headmistress' desk.

"Miss Granger, Lord Potter," she began. "We have a unique situation at Hogwarts this coming school year. And the unique challenges will have to be met with unique solutions."

Her face became quite stern as she suddenly concentrated on Hermione.

"Miss Granger, ever since you were a First Year student here, it has been blindingly obvious that you were going to be named as Head Girl in your Seventh Year. You have exemplified every trait we look for in a Head Girl. Excellent grades, a willingness to help others, even" she flicked a quick glance at Harry, "when the dunderhead receiving the help did not appreciate it."

"Ouch," winced Harry. "Channeling Snape. That one hurt. Been true sometimes, but it still hurts."

"Why you were never given a For Services Rendered to the School Award for your Second Year solving that a basilisk was roaming our halls is beyond me." With the last she turned a withering gaze over her shoulder at the supposedly sleeping portrait of Albus Dumbledore that hung on her office wall.

When she returned her eyes back to Hermione, they had a look of sadness to them.

"I am so very sorry that I cannot in good conscience give you your dream, Hermione. If I made you Head Girl, what do I do with the true Seventh Years who may have had the same dream? As I said, unique circumstances. I will not deprive Verbena Fencroft of her opportunity that she has strived for with just as much drive as you did."

During the pause of McGonagall's words, Hermione fought to keep tears from falling. Holding tight to that vision had sometimes been the only thing that had kept her sane during the more depressing times. The fanciful picture in her mind of making sure she flashed her gleaming Head Girl Badge in Malfoy's face, often and at close range, had been her only positive thinking for weeks during sixth year.

"However, I have an alternative for your CV. (1) And this alternative means you will not be as separated from your friends as the Head Girl position would make you."

Hermione was trying hard for stoicism in the face of what she figured would be a very small bandage on her dreams fatally bleeding wound.

McGonagall's gaze switched over to Harry and then back. "If you can pass enough of the seventh year NEWT tests in August, I am offering you and Lord Potter to be Co-Heads of House for the Eighth Years. (2) This offer includes Assistant Professor standing and the opportunity to teach at least one class, and I am hoping for two classes, by each of you."

As she finished speaking, she leaned back in her chair watching the stunned young man and woman before her. She could tell that Hermione was beginning to process and assess the Erumpent Horn Fluid flask (3) that had dropped in her lap, and Harry's brain was still in its automatic denial of any special treatment because he was not good enough mode.

Almost half a minute flew by as they sorted through the offer. Surprisingly, it was Harry who responded first. He had not been caught off-balance mourning the loss of a seven year dream.

"Headmistress, I understand the offer to Hermione. She's brilliant and motivated and kind. She is someone who will make a class follow her into learning stuff."

"Why me? Neville Longbottom was the leader of the DA last year. He was a man who worked hard to protect the weak and vulnerable from the Carrow's and their junior torturers. He should be the man honored with this position."

Harry was taking a breath to continue his rant when McGonagall interrupted.

"Lord Potter. I talked to Lord Longbottom two hours ago, seeking his advice on this subject. He told me that while he would very much like to teach an advanced class in Herbology, he would decline the Head of House role. He said that one year of being responsible for the lives of his fellow friends and students was all he could take. He finished his refusal with this exact quote."

"I will follow Harry into the Fires of Hades if he asks me. I cannot ask Harry to follow me."

McGonagall's calm, measured recitation left Harry speechless. Nev, the man who had followed Harry into the near disaster at the Department of Mysteries fifth year. Nev, who had the bravery to stand up to Voldemort in the courtyard until he was bound and set on fire, and then had the presence of mind to kill that sodding snake with the Sword of Gryffindor. That man said he would still follow Harry?

As of now, it was official. Harry figured Neville Longbottom was insane.

Yet, he looked so normal.

"Lord Potter. I am not asking you to lead a desperate defense of the school from a pack of sadistic, dark magic flinging maniacs. I am asking you and Miss Granger to keep semi-order in a group of people who have spent a year defying authority and running what was essentially guerilla warfare against an invader."

"Miss Weasley and the pair of you have convinced me there will be . . . issues."

Harry snorted.

Issues?

More like nightmares, questionable sanity, alcoholism, potions abuse and a host of other problems he hadn't even thought of yet. He was suddenly hard put not to chuckle. It was an epiphany for Harry. McGonagall was an academic, a teacher. She thought this offer was an honour.

Harry was figuring the offer was a quick road to hell paved with McGonagall's good intentions.

With the three of them covering each others back, maybe, just maybe, they could handle most of the problems.

The problems they couldn't?

Well, that's what older, supposedly wiser teachers were for. Harry snorted as he thought the last. His record of the teachers supporting him during his years at Hogwarts was spotty at best. His next thought had him shuddering at how the mob of DA veterans would react to having some old ex-auror with no sense of humour residing in that Head of House suite on the plans.

Hermione's brain had finally re-engaged at the words "defying authority." A lot of nights in the Fluffy room tent, the after dinner talk, fueled by beer and butterbeer, had become a re-telling of those desperate days a year ago that led to the reforming of Dumbledore's Army. The early attempts at trying to shield the younger students from the cruel whims of the Carrow's and those they recruited to help with their torture. The later plucking of the targeted children from the public halls of the castle and hiding them in the Room of Requirement. The raid on the Headmaster's office to steal the fake Sword of Gryffindor that led to the capture of Neville, Ginny and Luna. And the savage, bloody public punishment the Carrow's had exacted from them.

The nights when Neville was not there, the veterans would tell of him training the ex-students for war following the methods Harry had used in fifth year. And of the desperate plans they thought up to try to get the young ones free from the castle before Voldemort came for them and killed them all. How they had become refugees from their school in the Room of Requirement, short of food, short of hope, but not short of will. (4)

"Headmistress," Hermione said. "Instead of looking at the returning veterans as a decorum problem, have you considered using them as a resource? Seamus Finnigan, Ernie McMillan, Susan Bones and Ginny Weasley were Neville's top lieutenants during the siege of the Room of Requirements. I have a pretty good idea of what you plan for Ginny Weasley. But, have you made any plans to honor the others here at the school? Have you considered making them Eighth Year prefects? It would help spread the responsibility and time loads among more NEWT students giving everyone more study time. And it might help the fears of the younger students to realize that those who protected them once were patrolling to keep them safe again."

The stern visage McGonagall had adopted to give Hermione the bad news about the Head Girl position dropped as fast as her jaw did. Again, she had no detailed knowledge of how Dumbledore's Army had operated in the castle last year. Oh, she had gotten some idea from Aberforth Dumbledore in passing. But during last year, any talks between teachers had been brief and quiet to avoid the ever present Death Eaters.

She now realized that none of the teachers had mentioned talking to the veterans of the intra-Hogwarts struggle. Now that Miss Granger had filled in some blank spots in her knowledge of last year, she was considering how to use the information as she had suggested.

"Thank you for your thoughts, Miss Granger. I shall consider your ideas closely."

"Now, I understand I have dropped this offer on you two suddenly, but I need your answer tomorrow."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other as they rose to leave.

Her voice halted them just before the doorway.

"Lord Potter, Miss Granger, as part of my effort to get you to agree, I will leave you with this thought. Who put you in charge of the Eighth Year dormitory work?"

The pair stopped in their tracks as they stared at the Headmistress.

Harry spoke in a puzzled tone without thinking. "Why, you did."

Hermione said nothing as she was replaying every conversation with McGonagall back through her memory.

"No, Lord Potter, I did not. And I never told any of the others you were in charge. The two of you just decided where you were going to lead them, and then you convinced them to follow along."

"We're going to tell her Yes, aren't we," said Harry as they were returning to Fluffy's room and the tent.

"Yes, yes we are," answered Hermione lifting her chin and starting to stride ahead looking determined for the first time since arriving at McGonagall's office. ""It was only a dream I had that was killed today. That which does not kill us, makes us stronger."

"Of course, the first time I see Verbena Fencroft with that Head Girl badge pinned to her robes, please restrain me when I pull my wand to hex her into the next century."

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Coincidently, that night had been the second time Harry's Snuggle Witch was Daphne Greengrass. She had been waiting for her next turn with Slytherin concealed excitement. She was bored with the repetitive work. And Grangers bossy attitude about Harry and her control of his sleeping arrangements, had frankly pissed her off.

She also was not stupid. Half an hour's conversation with the Ravenclaw girls where she had flat out asked about this Marietta Edgecombe person had been scarily enlightening. According to the gossip, a curse written in pustules across the girls forehead had taken her family weeks and a thousand galleons to get the curse removed over the summer between fifth and sixth year.

In spite of herself, Daphne was impressed. Granger had performed magic that powerful as a fifth year.

What spells had she learned in three more years, and how much more powerful was she? This situation called for Slytherin cunning, not Gryffindor rashness.

It had taken several nights plotting behind the drapes of her bed with Tracey, but the plan they had formulated seemed as foolproof as their cunning could make it. After all, she was now free to find a husband on her own. The marriage contract that the Death Eaters had coerced from her father to the Flint family had been nullified by the death of Marcus Flint. And Daphne thanked her gods every day that his death had happened.

Daphne actually did not believe what she planned would hook Lord Harry Potter for her, but trolling some tasty bait in front of him could not hurt.

And it should be fun.

Harry was not asleep as she crawled into his bed in her sex-less flannel pajamas dragging her nights blanket through the four-posters drapes.

"Good evening Potter."

"Good evening Greengrass"

Harry decided to enjoy the show the beautiful blonde was putting on as she wriggled her way across the bed. Despite the flannel coverage of her chest, Harry decided from the way the fabric was moving around, Greengrass was not wearing a bra. He also could not pin down why he felt she was prolonging her hands and knees trek across his covers and making such a production of getting her blanket spread just so. The part where she turned away from him to smooth out the foot of her blanket had drawn her pajamas taut across her bottom before she turned around to wiggle under her blanket. She ended up by propping her cheek on her hand so she was looking down at with those big blue innocent eyes at Harry.

"So, anything you can talk about from your meeting with McGonagall?" Daphne figured that was a nice, safe opening. One of the tidbits she had learned during the evenings of talk in the tent was that asking Potter or Granger about any of the great adventures of the Golden Trio was to run into a stone wall. She was trying to find if he had any interests besides Quidditch, teen age girls and the work they were doing in the castle. After all, getting to know the habits of her prey had been ingrained into her starting very young.

After peering into those Oh-so-innocent eyes, Harry decided that a slightly censored account of the meeting would do no harm. He told her about McGonagall's concerns about the possible lack of decorum and other "attitudes" the veterans might be carrying about teacher authority. And about Hermione talking to her about using the maturity of the Eights and veterans to help everyone feel safer. The Assistant Professor-ships/Co-Head of House offer would remain a secret a while longer.

He finished by saying, "Oh yeah. I learned Lord Neville Longbottom is totally insane and might be teaching an advanced Herbology course this year."

Daphne's polite interest mask slipped a bit into slight shock that Potter would say such a thing about his friend. Harry smirked slightly and extinguished the lights with his wand. Daphne was left to creep over to where she could lay her head on his shoulder.

"Goodnight, Greengrass."

The reply was a sultry, "Goodnight, Potter," with an extra wiggle that pressed an uncontained breast into his ribs. If Harry could have seen the evil grin on her face, he would have had a harder time going to sleep that night.

Harry, as usual, had woken up before his Snuggle Witch. This morning he just lay on his back, enjoying the warmth of the beautiful young woman who was draped across him up and down the right side of his body. Her head was on his shoulder with her right arm across his chest. One leg had migrated across his and was now placed between both of his. Normally he would have been embarrassed by his physical reaction to the pressure her leg was having on his manhood.

But not that morning. After the night's fracas on his four poster, Harry was surprised he had fallen asleep again, or that Greengrass was still with him.

It had been bad.

The taunting, insane-eyed, lank haired bitch had just hit Sirius with a curse that was hurling him in slow motion into the Veil of Death, and Harry was struggling against a gleefully cackling someone-not-Remus who held him while he tried and tried to get to Sirius before he disappeared.

Harry was awoken by a weight holding him down and pleading with him to wake up. Bellatrix disappeared from the replay in his mind just as a flailing arm caught someone across the head. Which elicited a loud "Oww! Bloody hell Potter, that hurt!" right in his ear. That exclamation froze him long enough for his brain to remember where he was and who had just swore at him.

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to!" Harry's recent thin veneer of suave deserted him at the moment. "Are you alright?" he babbled, snatching up his wand and generating a Lumos spell so bright, it caused both teens to squint their eyes shut.

"Potter, stop! Just stop for a moment before you hurt something else!" snarled the blonde witch holding her cheek with one hand whilst grabbing his wand arm with the other hand.

Harry froze again, deciding Greengrass was zooming past the mad-at-him-stage, and was rapidly approaching totally-enraged-at-him territory.

As the moments passed, Harry realized that the way Greengrass was panting was causing her body to rub against him in interesting manner. Yep, that was definitely a breast with a hard nipple against his chest, and her crotch was rubbing against his hip. Harry was afraid to breath because he did not want those pleasant frictions to go away.

"Don't say anything, Potter," she said as her breathing evened out. "Don't move anything. Let's just . . whatever."

Daphne Greengrass at a loss for words. And she didn't try to cover her lack with her trademark Ice Queen mask. THAT had to be a first.

"Put your wand away. Lie still and let's try to not disturb the other." Putting her words into action she rolled onto her side and put her back against Harry. "Maybe we can salvage some sleep."

And to Harry' surprise he had. This pleasant thought was lazing through his head and helping his calm to his physical reactions to her presence. As his sleepy gaze wandered over her cloud of beautiful blonde hair up close, now that he was really examining them, he could see the individual hairs ranged from almost silver to deep gold in colour. His brain at first didn't connect that he was also seeing a bare shoulder. With a sexy, very thin black strap on it.

Now that got his attention. What else might be bare leapt into his brain like a whacked bludger.

"Oh no. No, no, no." Thoughts of what Hermione had told him about how she had jinxed his bed ricocheted around his skull. If Greengrass woke up with her face covered in spurting pustules, he didn't know what he would do.

"Greengrass, please wake up. Uh, Daphne could you wake up? Please?" Harry was talking in a strangled, barely above whisper, voice.

The object of his distress was trying to block out the noise that was disturbing her. It was interfering with the wonderful dream she was having. The dark dragon that had kept her prisoner was still leaking blood around the great lance buried in its chest. Her Knight was gazing at her with romantic longing in his radiant green eyes. His lips were parting to declare his eternal love for her. And something had just interrupted his declaration. Sod it all. This bed was really comfortable and she was having a great dream.

She wriggled, trying to burrow deeper into her pillow, attempting to re-capture that marvelous dream.

Except the pillow did not fluff right. And made noise. AND it made the noise that had ruined her dream. Daphne raised herself off the shoulder she had been lying upon and gave Harry Potter a slit-eyed glare that should have turned his innards to quivering jelly.

Harry, for his part, skootched away from contact with her.

"Oh, Merlin. I didn't think you were going to wake up."

"What in flaming hades is your problem Potter," she ground out.

""Your not . . I mean you're not covered the way you should be," a stuttering Harry squeaked out.

The elements of her plan flowed back into Daphne's mind.

First, seeming surprised was required. She sat up abruptly. "What do you mean not covered?"

As Harry stared, he decided covered-not covered was a flexible term. The black, silky, very, very low cut camisole was black, but it was not sheer nor was it opaque. And it left very little to Harry's imagination. He could see most of her breasts, but not see her nipples. He could see their outline and even the outline of her aureoles just below where the thin straps joined the body of the camisole. Yet he could not see them through the material. What the hell was that bloody thing made of?

He jerked his eyes up to her face, only to see her looking down at herself.

"Oh, I guess the transfiguration wore off," he heard her oh-so innocent voice proclaim. "Just a moment."

As Greengrass reached under her blanket for her wand, Harry was treated to a fascinating display of mammalian female pulchritude as she wobbled and jiggled.

Part of him wanted one of those damned straps to fall down, exposing her tit completely, the other part knew that act would trigger Hermione's jinx.

As Greengrass pointed her wand at herself, Harry closed his eyes. If she bungled the spell, he did not want to trigger the jinx.

Three seconds later, he heard Daphne say he could open his eyes. He was greeted with the sight of a flannel covered to the neck girl with a teasing smirk on her face.

"Awfully sorry about that," she declared. "I must have under powered the spell last night. Well, it has been an instructive night here in the Potter class bed, but it's time I was going. Ta-ta, Harry."

And with that she wriggled her way out of his four poster curtains and left the bedroom.

Hermione looked up from the book she was reading as Greengrass strolled across the sitting room and into her bedroom. She made a mental note to herself to ask Harry why the gorgeous ex-Sytherin was wearing a huge happy smirk so early in the day.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The meetings regarding his soon to be public role in the Wizenmagot with Andromeda and Narcissa Black were also eating away at his time. He was meeting at least one day a week with the Head of Family of someone who had been either an old Potter House ally, in the DA or the Order of the Phoenix.

If the family had a seat on the Wizengamot, all the better. It depended on the known politics or prejudices of the Lord or Head as to who else attended the meeting. Sometimes it was both witches and Hermione, sometimes both or only one of the sisters. Progress was slowly being made in that area of politics and influence brokering.

Harry hated it.

Some of the Lords caught on quickly and became supportive with minimal bargaining or bartering for their support. Some, mostly those who had lost someone who had been a member of the Order, were usually suspicious about Harry's motives as he was seen as having been a rabid Dumbledore supporter.

The worst were the social climbing Heads of a school mate that Harry liked and figured would join the continuing fight. Sitting politely, listening to the paternalistic maunderings disguised as advice to a young, ignorant parvenu was driving him spare. And the ones with marriage age daughters were the worst.

No, that was wrong. The worst was if Narcissa was one of his companions for the meeting. Any mistake in etiquette he made was covered in excruciating detail during his next lesson at Grimmauld Place.

No. Wrong again. Worst was the literally thousands of offered marriage contracts. By now, Harry was positive he had been offered every single witch in the country to be his wife. All his mail now was routed through Gringotts where it was checked for jinxes, hexes, curses or poison. And once again etiquette demanded that if the family making the offer was of sufficient standing in the wizarding world, he had to quill a formal response back.

He had felt a little hurt when Hermione told him she could not help as the writing had to be his. Halberdmaster had given him a partial out by showing him how to Geminio a parchment three or four times with the body of the letter already written. Then he only had to add the formal heading to the Family, his signature and address the envelope. That helped some.

Harry's largest problem was that he felt that he was running out of time. Even his upcoming birthday on Friday, had a somehow rushed, squeezed into the time available, feel to it. Last year Hermione had told him about some Muggle general who about two centuries ago had said. "Ask of me anything except for more time." (5)

That quote was becoming Harry's new boggart form.

 **A **/N****

Oh, hamster muse, where art thou? I need some inspiration.

 **One** _ **Curiculum Vitea.**_ British term. Americans would use `resume.'

 **Two** Really thought this was an original idea when I first outlined this chapter months ago.

Then read a story by **canoncansodoff** that had the same idea. A decade ago.

Held a small pity party, then wrote on.

 **Three** An American would say **"bombshell."** An Erumpent horn is what blew up Luna's

House in Deathly Hallows.

 **Four** A lot of how I think, and therefor write, about Hogwarts during the Carrow's reign comes from a story I read years ago. Called "Dumbledore's Army: Year of Darkness"

IMO, Very gory, very nihilistic, almost everyone dies in the end, type of work.

I will not re-read it.

 **Five** An inaccurate rendition of the quote, but Harry did not remember it correctly.


	11. Chapter 11

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 11

All recognizable characters are property of J. K. Rowling.

I make no money playing in her magical world

 **Yes this is early, but I was late with Chapter 10.**

 **I have good WiFi for one more day.**

 **Might as well take advantage.**

It might have been the best of times, it might become the worst of times.

August 8, 1998

Hermione Granger was at the moment a very conflicted witch.

She was seated at a table in the sitting room of the tent in Fluffy's room revising several of her schedules.

The Dormitory Construction schedule showed that the major walls were completed. Only some stairs, fiddly-bits of trim and doors needed to be finished. But, they could not be finished until the goblins completed windows and the stairways. And in a week the Purveyors of Sanitary Water and Waste Removal for Discriminating Wizards Everywhere were due to complete the water in and waste out plumbing enchantments for the student bathrooms and the new kitchen. Also it was going to take them four days instead of the original two days due to the added work of the Bath, kitchen and the two added bathrooms across the hall that her, Padma and Ginny had tentatively set up as bathrooms for the Veterans that they expected to show up seeking sanctuary.

All that extra work was going to have to be paid for. Some of those bullied galleons from Harry were going to be spent for the cause. And the guilt was biting into Hermione. Her friend should not have to work himself into exhaustion and he should not have to pay out of pocket to have work done to the school.

That was going to leave little time for the group to finish the furniture, draperies, wall hangings and all the other little items that separated a cozy place from an institutional office. And the items would be needed. The charms that even the best of the Fantastic Five could cast were still slightly off. Everyone was sure it was just a factor of scale and more practice at large scale illusion charms would smooth the slightly off. However, time was running out.

Her schedule for the Quidditch pitch restoration was only a bit behind. And she could admit to herself they had more time there as Quidditch team try-outs would not be until the last week in September. The only large glitch was getting the hoops unbent and their poles set. Hermione was working on getting the match stadium crews to set the poles if the Daily Prophet would write some favorable publicity. Fixing the hoops however were going to cost galleons to get the goblins to do the metal work. A _Reparo_ charm had been tried, but no one could cast it strong enough to straighten any of the large, bent metal hoops.

All fifteen of the students now working at Hogwarts had been studying for the last month until exhaustion sent them to bed. And the fatigue had started the wall failure percentage rate up again as the sleep deprived students magical reservoirs dropped. That might be self-correcting as the special NEWT tests were starting in two days. A student could take as many tests as they wanted and would not have to take the course if they passed and accepted the grade.

Hermione was planning to test out of every standard class. And especially the standard transfiguration, charms, potions and DADA NEWT classes. If enough students passed the standard test, McGonagall had promised several advanced, beyond NEWT classes.

Hermione took a final look at her smallest schedule. That involved meetings with Harry and various Family heads and her schedule of etiquette meetings with Narcissa Black. One of her largest surprises in the last few weeks was learning Narcissa did not despise her for being a Muggleborn. She was in her eyes, an _ignorant_ Muggleborn who was unacquainted with how wizard society worked, and faulted her for understanding so little after seven years of being in wizarding culture.

Hermione had promptly defended herself, stating the deficiency of literature on PureBlood culture and her ill treatment by PureBloods at every turn.

The cold-eyed reply had been shocking.

"Miss Granger, if you were attending a school in Greece, would you have made the effort to learn the language and Grecian culture if the locals snubbed you because they could not understand you? What about attending Castelobruxo in Brazil? There you would have needed both Portuguese and Spanish. And I wager you would have paid attention to understanding the local culture had you been there."

"You have spent seven years assuming that because you were in the country of your birth with the same language, wizarding culture should conform to your bias that you acquired growing up Muggle."

As Hermione stared at her with the thought that Narcissa was being unfair, the grey-eyed blonde spoke again.

"Did it ever occur to you to ask Neville Longbottom for some help? I'm sure that his grandmother, Dame Augusta Longbottom, would have been quite earnest in helping you. You had a resource directly at hand and refused to investigate it further due to _your_ prejudices."

That conversation from three weeks ago _still_ bothered her.

As she stared at her lists it was occurring to her they showed the relentless passing of time. Time she had hoped would lead to getting Harry to start looking at her as a girl who could move past being a girl friend. She knew partly it was her fault, as she herself was vastly ignorant of how act for the art of man catching. She had tried tight clothes, a small bikini and even letting Harry accidently catch her in her sleeping wear crop top with shorts.

Hermione also knew Harry had no reference points as how to approach a female. Ginny had to grab him and snog him senseless in one swift move to get his attention in sixth year.

She could not do that.

The pain of Harry saying he did not think of her like that, and the possible collapse of her friendship with him was paralyzing. She could not take that chance of that happening any more than she could cut her arm off.

Yet, she must do something.

After September 7th, the restraint his Snuggle Witch's were showing would disappear faster than a disillusioned snitch. Toss in a dozen or so seventh year females and some sixth year girls who would stop at nothing short of gross impropriety, (and probably bend gross impropriety into a pretzel) to get the interest of the Boy-Who-Conquered, and the Harry Meat Market Parade would begin to roll.

I need more time, she thought.

And with that thought, Napoleon Bonaparte's quote tolled through her mind.

"You can ask me for anything you like, except time."

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

"I need more time," he thought.

Ron was floating on his broom over the Gryffindor section of the partially finished stands. Being Ron, he was staring at the half-empty cup of his Quidditch pitch. If he was able to look past his gnawing fear of failure, he would see the majority of the spectator stand supports were in and completed, two of the four towers were close to being finished and even some of the long bench seating was installed. He still needed two towers, a few other supports and a bunch of sitting planks. Oh, yeah. And the scoring hoops and their poles installed.

The poles were scheduled to be set in two weeks. Hermione was negotiating with that same goblin Iron Master who had made the iron connection fittings for the great timber risers and supports to get the hoops straightened.

Where Ron was having trouble was that Ernie MacMillan had become Ron's chief fascines builder. A Ravenclaw sixth year Quidditch fanatic had modified a gathering spell to line up and inter-leave the branches and twigs needed for the great timber baulk transfiguration. The problem was he was not adept enough to do the spell consistently himself. Turned out that Ernie learned, and could power the charm, but his father had been taking him away from the work for some very secret meetings in London. Ron had learned the charm, but was inconsistent with his wand work and messed up the spell as often as he succeeded in making it work. Hermione, Luna and Ginny had the skill to make the Fascine Bundle Charm work, but they were usually busy with the dormitory stone work, working for Headmistress McGonagall or lately studying for end of year and NEWT tests.

Ron knew that he had promises from his friends, and from Seamus, Dean and Ernie that they would be with him to help as soon as the NEWT testing was done, but being on his own at the moment was eating away at his shaky self-confidence.

"Merlin, I could use some more time," thought Ginevra Weasley.

She was buried in texts and references for her end of sixth year tests. She believed in Headmistress McGonagall's statement that anyone could take their appropriate end of year tests and would be given either a pass or fail grade. A passing grade meant you could take the next class. A fail meant repeating the class. McGonagall had explained the rational behind the plan during some of the `Tea and Biscuit' meetings her and Hermione had had with the Headmistress over the summer.

During last year, there had been no Muggle Studies class. It had become a PureBlood Supremacy class. Defense Against the Dark Arts had horrifically morphed into Application of the Dark Arts, with emphasis on torture curses. If the problem had just been those two classes, Ginny was confident she would pass those exams. The problem was that when the DA had been forced into hiding in the Room of Requirement, normal study of the Hogwarts core classes had become ignored in favor of what became to be considered survival courses.

Survival then meant becoming very stealthy or being faster on the draw with a curse or hex against the Death Eaters, snatchers or junior torturers who had infested the halls of Hogwarts. Ginny had become by necessity stealthy, fast and accurate with her spell casting, but had lost a term of charms and transfiguration _theory._ She believed that her probable scores on the practical's in charms, transfiguration and DADA would earn her a passing grade. And she might eke out a passing potions grade as brewing first aid, healing and restorative potions had become vital as the year passed. Also she thought that all her History of Magic reading due to intense boredom from nowhere to go might allow her another possible passing mark.

But Astronomy, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures and Runes were going to be disasters. She found herself becoming increasingly frustrated about the uncertainty of her future classes.

It wasn't her fault that guerilla fighters sucked at academics. If her brother could just get the Quidditch pitch re-built, a career with the Holyhead Harpies was looking more attractive than ever.

Harry was cursing that he was going to have to forego using Pepper-Ups for the next several days so that the potion would still work for him during his NEWT testing week. He did not want to admit just how grateful he was to Hermione and his Snuggle Witches. Without them, he was positive he would have developed a bunch of psychoses by now. Oh, he was still an emotional wreck, but at least he was getting almost enough sleep to function. And talking in the privacy of his bed with all the girls was more therapeutic than he knew.

The light, but intelligent, banter of Tracey Davis was balanced by the serious talks with Padma Patil about insular British wizarding bigotry towards `furriners' no matter how distinguished ones PureBlood pedigree. Sophie Roper and Lilith Moon both just wanted to talk about their future classes and their after-Hogwarts goals. Luna was the comfortable little sister he never had. He was not sure who was protecting whom when she popped through his curtains for the night. Susan Bones opened his eyes to the PureBlood obsession with Line Continuation. He was saddened that such a bright light of intelligence was going to subsume her wants to the need to produce an heir or heiress to keep the Bones Family line alive.

Harry had come to realize that Hermione was the witch who actually cost him the most sleep. Her arrival always devolved into a strategy session about what they now figured they had to do to overthrow the PureBlood oligarchic kleptocracy that was strangling Britain. He also reckoned she made up for it by being the one witch that quieted his subconscious. His nightmares were almost nonexistent, and he had an occasional normal dream when she cuddled up on him.

That left Daphne Greengrass as the Girl Most Puzzling to Harry. After the show all, but not-quite-all show, she had not been flirtatious in bed at all. There had been another incident where once again a silky camisole had appeared, but when awakened, she had just looked at herself, said "Oh, bugger," waved her wand, had flannelled-up and dropped back asleep on him in less than ten seconds, leaving Harry wondering what the hell had happened. He had also discovered during their pre-falling asleep talks, she was a fount of wizarding culture and Wizengamot information. Turned out her father was a prominent solicitor in wizarding Britain, and her mother, under a pseudonym and glamour, was a successful Witch's Romance writer.

Harry had definitely goggled at the last revelation. Daphne had giggled at his facial expression and said, "The Muggleborn and muggle raised witch's practically gag upon reading them, but the sheltered PureBloods love them."

Daphne also seemed to know his moods better than Hermione. On nights when he wanted to ramble until his brain tired out, she listened. On nights when he was sleepy, she would quietly talk until her voice put him to sleep.

He had found that he was starting to look forward to the nights Daphne Greengrass, despicable Slytherin snake, shared his bed and wondered how in hell THAT had happened.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Nasty Exhausting Wizarding Tests were not the only tests being given at Hogwarts that week. The returning second through eighth year students were all being tested as the twin disasters of the Carrow's not giving a damn about education and Hogwarts having been grievously damaged in the fighting nearly two months before the end of term had stunted everyone's magical education. That remedial classes were going to be needed was a given by anybody who had thought about the problem. The only question was how many catch-up classes in each grade were going to be needed.

A pair of old large class rooms near a bathroom for the appropriate sex had been converted into temporary dormitories for the week. Two more unused classrooms were designated as study rooms with transfigured tables and chairs everywhere. A cafeteria set-up with always replaced house elf supplied food, was in the great Hall from before dawn until curfew at night for those with tests that interfered with regular meal times.

As usual, the NEWT and OWL year students were the most stressed about the testing. The week passed in a haze of parchment and spells for Harry. All of the students wanting to return for their Eighth year had shown up for the testing. Everybody who came to the castle was so busy revising, that most conversations between Harry and the year mates he had not talked to for over a year were held while waiting for the practical portion of the test.

He did manage to have some quiet words with Seamus Finnegan, Ernie McMillan, Kevin Entwhistle and Terry Boot. He met with them for about fifteen minutes each in a deserted classroom and after swearing them to secrecy, had them take a personal message from Lord Potter to their fathers thanking them for their previous meetings and reiterating his confidence in their continued support.

Harry finished in five days of testing. He reckoned he had passed all the practical's for the Sixth Year classes he had tested for. Transfiguration, Charms, DADA, Potions, History of Magic, Astronomy and Herbology. The theoretical parts were shakier, but overall, he should have passed all the core classes. He was thinking he could place out of Seventh Year Transfiguration, Charms and DADA. He would finalize his Eighth Year classes after he received his results.

Ron had merely wanted to take his Sixth Year end of year tests. Harry, with Hermione's help, had persuaded him to take the DADA NEWT test. They both agreed that he should pass the practical and with a bit of luck, might pass the theoretical. It could be a badly needed confidence boost with the recent lack of real progress on the Quidditch pitch. The other two thirds of the Golden Trio tried not to dwell on what failure would do to Ron's ego.

Hermione had been given special permission to not take any Sixth Tear tests. She then decided to take eleven of the twelve offered NEWT course tests available at Hogwarts. She claimed even if she could get an Outstanding with Honours in Divination, she would not take the test. With revising, dormitory and Quidditch pitch work, she looked more exhausted than she had in third year when she had used the Time Turner. Harry was planning a special outing for her on Sunday after she had gotten a good nights sleep. And he had plans that would make sure she did.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

It was the Sunday morning after the exhausting week of examinations. Harry was waiting in the tent's sitting room on Hermione to appear.

It had been a devious and cunning plan.

After her last examination, Harry had walked her back to the tent and cooked a scrumptious turkey dinner. He had deliberately made it a `heavy' meal and let her ramble about her usual obsession with reviewing all her exams. Between the tryptophan, the carbohydrates, a calming draught and two celebratory glasses of a fine red wine, Harry had her asleep by seven P.M.

They had been the only two in the tent last night so Harry had joined her in bed some hours later. He didn't think she remembered her nightmare. She had been so loggy and Harry had used his best soothing voice and had rubbed her back until she slept again.

It was near nine o'clock when his wild-haired best friend entered the sitting room. She still looked tired but miles better than the witch he had forced to eat and sleep last night. She was wearing a lovely pastel blue sundress and block-heeled sandals. Harry thought she looked wonderful. He stood and offered his arm. She regarded him with mild curiosity.

"Alright, Harry. What is so mysterious that you had to actually ask me to `dress nice'?"

"Well," said Harry, "we are going out in celebration of our passing our NEWT's and the posting of the two youngest ever Hogwarts Assistant Professors. I believe we owe ourselves some time off from the castle. After all, tomorrow we have to return to our building work."

"Can we see Tilitsy?"

"Of course. But later in the afternoon. We do have some minor business to take care of after we eat a late breakfast."

The pair chatted away as they walked down to Hogsmeade and floo'd from The Three Broomsticks to the Leaky Cauldron. Entering Diagon Alley, they found a table at the upscale Le Repas Francais where Harry made Hermione do the ordering, telling her that he wanted to feel that he was getting an authentic Parisienne breakfast as they pretended the passers-by they saw through a window were on a French street. After a quick trip to Gringotts where Harry withdrew some Galleons and then converted much of it into muggle pounds. He also talked her into signing as an authorized co-owner of a small vault he had set up for minor withdrawals for any special needs of Eighth Year house. After a polite leaving that had Harry and Halberdmaster conspiratorially smirking at each other, he led her into Truffit and Tattings, the legendary _haute couture_ of Diagon Alley.

"Harry," she hissed at him as he practically dragged her through the doorway. "What are we doing here?"

"Just picking up a few things for school," Harry replied in his most innocent tone.

Hermione had had way too much experience dealing with her friend and she knew he was lying through his teeth to her. Her scathing interrogation was halted before it started as an elegant looking witch in impeccable robes approached them.

"May I be of service to you?" she asked in a modulated, polished tones. Her tone also conveyed that it would not be much for two obviously muggle-influenced teenagers. The woman's eyes widened as she noticed the scar on Harry's forehead. Her cool assurance blew away like smoke as her eyes widened and she swayed as if in a strong breeze.

"I . . uh . . mean can I be of service to you Lord Potter"?

"You certainly can," Harry answered in a rolling posh tone Hermione instantly recognized as coming straight out of the Narcissa Black PureBlood Culture instructions.

"Miss Granger here has been selected as an Assistant Professor for this year at Hogwarts. She will be in need of a minimum of five everyday teaching robes, a dress robe for school functions, a cold weather cloak, shoes, boots and any accessories you might deem she needs to make a proper impression. She will be a Head of House for the returning Eighth Year students, so any accessories and any trimmings will be in Hogwarts colours. You and I will have to design an appropriate emblem on her robes showing her Head of House status."

As Harry rolled on with his list of clothes, Hermione's jaw kept dropping further with every item mentioned. No, this was way too much. Harry was going crazy or something.

"Of course, Lord Potter," the clothier responded as years of experience dealing with PureBloods came to her rescue. "I am Madame Adrienne. If you and Miss . . Granger? will follow me over here we can start with a selection of fabrics and then we shall commence with the fitting."

"We shall be with you in a few moments, Madame. Miss Granger is about to argue that she does not need new robes for her teaching. However she will lose the argument and we will be with you shortly."

Harry turned back to a Hermione whose jaw was snapping shut and whose eyes were becoming angry slits. Quicker than she could avoid, he placed his index finger on her lips.

"You cannot wear your regular school robes when you are teaching classes, Hermione. In fact, do you even know if your school robes still fit? You are my dearest friend without whom I would have died more times than I can count. If you can honestly tell me that I will be causing financial hardship for myself and family by giving you this `Thank You for Saving Me Again' gift, then I will stop. But, you do realize that your public refusal will be misinterpreted, and be gossiped about around the entire British Isles within the next twenty-four hours." Harry had a smirk growing on his face.

"And my acceptance showing that I am your mistress will fly around even faster!" she tried to shout quietly.

Before she could react further, Harry snatched the bag he had gotten in Gringotts from his robes and dropped it into her robes.

"Now I'm not buying anything," he smirked at her. "And the bag is illusioned to resemble your Hero's Award Vault bag. She will never know the difference."

"That won't work Harry. Even I know the bag connected to your vault will not work for anyone else."

"Unless a vault has been opened that has her name listed as authorized to spend the gold sitting in it." Harry's smirk had reached epic proportions.

Hermione's thoughts flew back to Gringotts. "You didn't!" she hissed.

"I did. Now are we going to make the front page of the Prophet, or are we buying clothes? As I know I have played dirty, I will sit through the fitting without complaint."

Hermione was not strong enough to resist the tearful green puppy dog eyes that accompanied the last. With one last glare that really had little heat to it, she turned and followed Madame Adrienne.

It took three exhausting hours but Hermione finally picked five robes that were conservatively coloured dark green, dark red, dark blue, black with yellow highlights, and a dark grey. The Acromantula silk dress robe was black with the four house colours trim charmed to subtly shift across it. The winter cloak was made from dark brown alpaca fur, lined with silk over lambs wool, with imported wolverine fur around the hood, with gold fittings. Multi-coloured ties, scarves and gloves with a pair of brown leather and a pair of black dragon hide two-inch heeled knee high boots rounded off the entirety of Hermione's purchases.

Hermione did get a small measure of revenge. She browbeat Harry into a black cashmire, silver fitted, winter cloak, an Acromantula silk black dress robe and a pair of knee high Hungarian Horntail hide boots. He did it without complaint. Now she could just figure out whether to be angry at him, or happy she had finally persuaded him to get some new clothes. It was petty of her, but Hermione continued to show her displeasure by making a point of ostentatiously paying for Harry's clothes from `her' Gringotts bag. Elf delivery would be in two days.

"We must be going Hermione. We have a two o'clock appointment at St. Mungo's."

"Very well, Harry. Do I get to know why we have a two o'clock appointment at St, Mungo's?"

"Why certainly. You will know at about five minutes after two."

That did it. As soon as she was out of public view, she was going to hex him into oblivion. And she was going to smile while she did it.

Still without explanation, Harry side-apparated Hermione into the apparition point at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and after checking with the information desk they walked up to the Spell Damage ward on the fourth floor. Since it was Sunday, the area seemed quieter then Hermione expected. Harry knocked at an office door, and at the "Enter", opened the door and followed Hermione inside.

There they were greeted by a tall, thin man with sandy-brown hair wearing white Healer robes. He gestured them to be seated in a pair of chairs in front of his desk.

"Healer Courter, thank you for meeting with us today. This is my friend Hermione Granger, and she has a problem. Hermione, this is Healer Courter. He specializes in mind magics, particularly in obliviation cases."

"Ah, Miss Granger," the healer spoke with a small smile. "Lord Potter has spoken to me that you have a problem with your parents having been Obliviated during the late war. He has not shared any further information as he keeps informing me that the story behind the memory loss is yours to tell."

Hermione's mind was spinning like a car tyre on ice. Her thoughts flashed from surprise at what Harry had sprung upon her, embarrassment, and then anger, that he had talked to an outsider about the horrible act she had performed. And finally, a flickering ray of hope that Harry had done something that would free her from the nightmare her good intentions had created.

"So, Miss Granger. Can you tell me just how your parents were obliviated? The more I know, the greater my chances of effecting a cure are."

Hermione spent the next twenty minutes explaining to Healer Courter why she had learned the spell, how she had cast the spell and what she believed the results should have been. Her voice became increasingly ragged as the story unfolded.

When she was done, he looked at her for a moment. The pity he was feeling for her evident in his eyes.

"From the way you have told me your story, I believe you have traveled to Australia and attempted to reverse the effects of your spell?"

Hermione was too overwhelmed to do speak. She nodded.

"And since you are here now, I can assume your attempt at reversal failed?"

Hermione again could only nod as tears started coursing down her cheeks. Harry rose from his chair to walk behind Hermione and place his hands on her shoulders. That calming touch was the only thing keeping her from a complete wailing breakdown.

"Miss Granger, it turns out that I planned to be taking a family vacation to Australia during the Christmas holidays. If you could, before I leave, be so kind as to give me a way to contact your parents, perhaps I might be able to help you. I make no promises that I can help you, but I am one of those who feels he owes you and Lord Potter a debt. Being born of a halfblood wizard and a muggle mother, my status as a healer protected my family somewhat, but the veneer of protection was fading fast. I completely believe I owe you my parents lives, and those of my children."

Looking deep into her eyes he finished.

"So, owl me the contact information I will need to find your parents, and I will do my very best for you."

Harry thanked him and holding a wobbly legged Hermione about her shoulders, left the office.

He quickly disillusioned both of them as he figured being seen with a crying girl in St. Mungo's would have the witch he was with pregnant with at least triplets by next mornings issue of The Prophet. Reaching St. Mungo's designated apparition space he side-along apparated Hermione to Potter Manor.

Tilitsy popped in a second after Harry and Hermione appeared at the manors apparition point. Taking in Hermione's state, she fixed Harry with a glare. Without removing his arm from Hermione Harry silently tried to convey that it wasn't his fault. Tilitsy visibly sighed and next thing they knew they were in the Potter elves kitchen. As the pair seated themselves, tea and biscuits were presented and the trio proceeded to silently unwind from the emotional storm that had crackled around them.

After fifteen minutes or so, Harry informed Tilitsy that the Manor was going to be receiving visitors. Liquor, butterbeer, gillywater and the finest teas and coffee were to be readied. Fresh canapes were to be provided. "We are going to project the aura of power, wealth and sophistication to other families of power, wealth and sophistication."

The meetings were to be in what was now his study, so it needed to be impeccable. The meetings would be held the first week of September. He also told his head elf that it would not be until mid-September or so that he would know how many elves he would bond to the House of Potter.

Worn from the emotional storms of the day, the two young adults decided to sleep in Potter Manor and leave early for Hogwarts tomorrow. They rather quickly fell asleep in their rooms, but did not sleep well or long. Visits by Hermione's parents asking why she had done this to them and Umbridge torturing kids who held the back of their hands up as they blamed Harry for bringing her to the school, led to sweat soaked sheets and red, weary eyes come morning.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The handsome, sandy haired man seated behind his enormous desk in his richly appointed study was holding a glass with a finger width of amber liquid in it. He was staring at it as though it held the answer to a very difficult question. Last night he had been given a glimpse of a plan that would forever change the world he lived in. His was a comfortable world for him physically. However the preceding years of warfare and strife in the wizarding community had brutally bludgeoned him with the knowledge that on a whim, his life, his family and his long PureBlood line could have been destroyed. The two rises of the Dark Lord over twenty years had accomplished that feat to many other lines. Several of his friends and acquaintances had died and their family lines had been eliminated from wizarding Britain.

He thought about his wife sitting in front of the fireplace in the family room patiently waiting for him to come to a decision. They had talked almost all day about the information they had learned, before he retired to his study for some solitary contemplation. He was not a man of hasty or rash decisions. However, this decision could not wait for a leisurely perusal of all the possible advantages and potential disasters it involved. He was going to have to fly this broomstick without a point-me charm.

Leaving the whiskey untouched, he set the glass down, arose and firmly stepped out of his office into the family room. His wife looked at him and he quirked one side of his mouth up in a half smile at the unvoiced question in her eyes.

"Yes, Dear. You may send her an owl informing her I approve of her plan."

The beautiful woman with the honey coloured hair gracefully arose from the couch, walked over to her husband with a small smile playing about her lips.

"You do remember the part where I told you that in spite of how logically she presented her arguments, there is more to her proposal than cold-hearted plotting to become an extremely powerful, influential witch?" she questioned.

"I remember. And that may become the reason her whole machination does not blow up in her face like an Exploding Snap deck."

 **A/N:**

 **More whinging.**

 **Am having horrible hamster block on writing the Rite/Right of Conquest negotiations and fight in the Wizengamot. It is greatly slowing production of the next two chapters.**


	12. Chapter 12

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 12

The creation of the Harry Potter universe is by J.K. Rowling

We just zip into its space continuum occasionally

Great Merlin, where did summer go?

It was one week before the Hogwarts Express would journey from platform 9 ¾ to Hogsmeade Station. The Dynamic Dozen plus Two were all gathered in Harry's tent before trooping down to Hogsmeade to use the Three Broomsticks floo to go home for a deserved break before the start of school. The group spent a couple of hours admiring the work they had done in creating the Eighth Year dormitory.

Three weeks ago.

Tests had been graded and returned to potential students quickly.

Ron had passed most of his sixth year tests. He had received mostly A's with two E's in DADA and Charms.

Additionally he had received an E grade on his DADA NEWT test. All that practice while running around in the woods and rocks mock dueling with Harry and being tutored in theory by Hermione had paid off for his score. His theoretical part had only been a high A, but his practical was a low O and together they equaled an E. Ron may have been gobsmacked he passed, but was not about to return the grade.

For him it was a short return to his glory days as the Gryffindor Quidditch team Keeper. Harry and Hermione were genuinely happy for his grade. His mother hugged the life out of him and wept with joy that her youngest son had done something even his brilliant older brothers William and Percival had not achieved. He had passed a NEWT test a year early.

Hermione had as expected, passed every NEWT test with Outandings in eleven classes.

It had started to dawn on her that this year was going to be quite a different experience because she had no idea what her class structure would be without the usual classes. The Headmistress had assured her that she would squeeze out the galleons to pay for instructors in Enchanting, Spell Crafting Arithmancy, Advanced Runic Structures, Ancient Magical Studies and perhaps Alchemy.

"After all, Miss Granger," stated the Headmistress. "The very low paid instructor internships the four of you will be doing will leave some useful extra galleons in the Hogwarts pot."

Harry had accepted his sixth year end grades and taken the DADA, Transfiguration and Charms NEWT's. He had passed the DADA NEWT with the second highest recorded grade on Hogwarts history. Only Albus Dumbledore had achieved a better score in over two hundred years. In Transfiguration and Charms he received only a pair of E's. Again, his practical work was Outstanding, his theoretical scores had barely been low Excellent's.

Harry was careful to seem properly fazed by his scores when around Hermione, but honestly to himself, he found he did not care much. No one was going to pay much attention to his NEWT scores at some job interview. He was The-Boy-Who-Had-Conquered and he had wearied of imbecilic older adults telling him what to do. He was, thanks to many people's sacrifices, in a position where he did not have to work for a pay envelope. He also was carrying a very low opinion about the majority of adults he had seen in the Ministry who had positions of authority. He was positive that the second time a supervisor wanted him to do something really stupid, he would tell them to take their job and shove it, he wasn't working here anymore. (1)

And the image of a young, rebellious snot was not the image he wanted to be foremost in the public wizard mind when his name was mentioned in The Daily Prophet during the next several years. He was young and rebellious, but since Hermione had the threat of exposing Rita Skeeters illegal animagus form, he was not going to be called a young snot.

Now He could start on his lesson plans for the two DADA classes McGonagall had dragooned him into teaching. He had the Second years for both theoretical and practical and the OWL Fifth years for practical. So, according to Professor Lupin's old syllabus he would have six hours in class time, plus seven to ten hours in grading and preparation time each week. That should leave him with about thirty hours for his own classes and homework. That meant taking nine or ten classroom hours in a week. Hermione swore he would find that at this level, he should expect to spend two hours studying or doing homework for every hour in class.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Two weeks ago.

The last walls had been placed. The girls had even added a curved stairway to their dormitory hall at a couple of days hard labor, having watched how the goblins had made them. When asked, they said it was to block any direct site lines down their dormitory hallway. Apparently some of Seamus' remarks when he had visited Ron to help him at the Quidditch pitch had been overheard.

The plumbing (such as it was with water producing and waste vanishing charms involved) had been completed. Including the kitchen and sybaritic bath Hermione had pitched for inclusion to the dormitory. Even Padma was satisfied with the amount of space and number of facilities in female loos. When a remorseful Hermione tearfully confessed to using a hundred ten of those galleons Harry had given her months ago to get the enchanters from Purveyors of Sanitary Water and Waste Removal for Discriminating Wizards Everywhere to "plumb" the extra bathrooms, kitchen and the luxury spa, he had to fake being concerned. The "extras" made her happy and Harry would empty his vaults for Hermione's happiness.

Every room had a magic window in a wall. EverBurning candles had been charmed to the walls and onto ceiling chandeliers.

A call had been sent out via the Quibbler in late July for witches and wizards to donate old rugs, wall hangings and non-magical paintings for the eighth year rooms. Furniture, particularly tables for studying, and clothes wardrobes had been handled the same way. The response had been overwhelming. The surplus was now protected by stasis charms and most of the excess would probably be used by the expected Veterans dorm. Everything that had been badly worn or was shabby had been transfigured and charmed to a fare-thee-well and at this time the Eighth Years had the best looking house complex in the castle.

The last week and a half would be spent hauling and transfiguring and charming all those broken tables and chairs Harry had marked for use months ago. Beds ready for house elf linens were produced. Wardrobes, desks and chairs for each room were transfigured and tested. Wall hangings were charmed with warming charms to help with the cold that radiated from the bare stone wall during winter, and brightening charms were added everywhere. The Ravenclaws' made sure they would not be living in a dark, dank dungeon. They would miss their bright, airy tower, but worked hard to recreate its feel as much as possible.

One week ago.

With NEWT's out of the way and the dorm nearly finished, the Magnificent Seven had hit the Quidditch pitch hard. And with Ginny, Sophie Roper, Tracey Davis and Oliver Rivers casting the Interweaving Charm, most of the stand supports and seats had been transfigured and passed their strength and longevity tests.

With great pomp, many interviews and photographs, the scoring hoop poles had been emplaced by a group from every professional Quidditch team in Great Britain and Ireland. It had been a magnificent sight as the fifty to seventy foot tall poles had risen to be nudged and prodded into their ten feet deep foundation holes.

With the Hogwarts students watching closely, the three goblin straightened northern scoring hoops had been set before darkness halted the operation. The quidditch professionals had confidently told everyone they would be back in a week to finish the last three hoops.

With Ron standing at the end of the pitch looking forlornly at the three hoop-less poles, Harry along with the rest of the Quidditch fanatic onlookers, wandered over to ask what was wrong.

"It's gettin' near the start of the season for them, "Ron said. "I'm just worried that since we got so close to finishing, they might delay coming back as anything might change their plans. We are _so_ close to being done."

In the dying light, Ron was looking at Harry when he started to see that manic little grin forming on his face that foretold some desperate plan was forming behind those green eyes.

"We all watched as they set those three hoops, right?" Harry said. "We all heard the spells they used, right?"

Heads nodded in the group gathered 'round.

"Then what's to stop us from finishing the job tomorrow morning?"

Ron blanched. "Harry, if we muck this up, we'll be the laughing stock of the country."

"Aw, c'mon Ron," said Harry, slapping him on the back. "Right now you are the man trying to re-build the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. I say we make you the legend who _finished_ building theQuidditch pitch."

The crowd around them started buzzing.

"Yeah, let's do it!"

"That would be brilliant!"

"We could tell our kids about this!"

"Our housemates are gonna be green with fuckin' envy!"

After the hubbub had died away Harry spoke. "Alright, we are going to need eight riders plus a bunch of ground people to make sure the hoops are square to the pitch. There will be three of us, you, me, Ginny, and get A.T., Ernie, Terry Boot and . . ."

"And me plus another rider I'll bring," came a voice to Harry's right.

He looked and found Daphne Greengrass giving him her best `do not even consider refusing me, or I will painfully hex you, Potter' look.

"O-o-okay. I guess we have our eight flyers for tomorrow. Anybody else who shows up will get put to work as the ground crew. Be here at nine A.M."

And the Placing of the Hoops the next day did turn into Hogwarts legend. Of course, in the legend, everything went smoothly.

Real life is usually _untidier_ than legends.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

With barely two days before they would leave Hogwarts for a week at Potter Manor, Harry and Hermione floo'd to Diagon Alley and walked into Gringotts.

The Head Teller was expecting them and soon passed them to an apprentice who led them to Halberdmaster's office. Hermione dropped a Disillusion Charm on her hair to reveal a stylish up-do that should have been paired with a slinky gown and much sparkly jewelry. Hermione had even worked on Harry's hair enough that his usually random messy hair looked sophisticatedly tousled. The plain cloaks covering their robes were removed. The robes that had been hidden under the cloaks screamed money and breeding. And for once, Harry had actually balked slightly at the cost and time used to fit them. Narcissa _and_ Andromeda had then ganged up on the youngsters.

"Since you are now entering the snake pit of wizarding politics, you have to look as though you belong. Those who belong, are automatically listened to. Those whom are listened to often get what they want from the process of politics."

"But, Andi," Harry protested, "There will not be any politicians there."

"No politicians, perhaps," Narcissa piled on. "But you are meeting your human solicitors for the first time. Halberdmaster has told me that the lead solicitor from Gringotts is Abenigo Fencroft, and he has been specifically told to gossip at social functions as to your sophistication and taste. Do not make him into a liar."

Andromeda kept up the pressure. "The other two representatives are from the premier legal firm in the magical and mundane worlds. They are from Wolfram and Hart, the firm we used for the backround and very old case law research we needed. They have resources for old document retrieval and case law memory that are not available to wizards."

Again Narcissa. "If those two deem that their work for you was a waste of their time and effort and you have been frivolous about their reputation with your suit, the firm will find a way to oppose our aims. And their opposition would be very . . . unfortunate."

Harry had no idea who _those_ people were, but Andromeda couldn't look him in the eye while talking about them and Hermione had paled and covered her mouth.

"Oka-a-y, if they are so fantastic, why are they not our primary solicitor firm?" he questioned.

Hermione got his attention by touching his arm. "You do not want to publically become too closely tied to Wolfram and Hart. They are widely rumoured to be tightly connected to many _planes_ of the universe. If it becomes widely known we are closely tied them, many of our Light side supporters would start questioning our leadership."

Looking all three witches in the eye, he got three nods of affirmation.

While still feeling unenlightened, he decided that if the three really intelligent witches were worried, he figured that following their advice to the letter was an outstanding idea.

Halberdmaster stood and announced it was time. The group filed into a hallway and after several turns, entered a door. The meeting room had a large table in the middle surrounded by chairs. Harry, as coached, strode into the room as though he owned it, stopped, and casually surveyed the space. Apparently finding everything satisfactory, he proceeded to the large table opposite him. He deliberately did not go for the head of the table. His place at this meeting was directly across the table from his legal group. His chair was across from the space between the Gringotts lawyer and the pair from Wolfram and Hart. Narcissa and Andromeda sat to his right, Hermione to his immediate left. Halberdmaster occupied the head of the table with his assistant to his left next to Andromeda. Harry's appreciation of just how important, (or hazardous?) this meeting could be as he recognized the `assistant' as his Black Senior Account Manager, Reaverfromshadow.

The solicitors went through introducing themselves.

Abenigo Fencroft was a, tall, stoop shouldered, dusty brown haired pleasant featured man, who looked to be in his forties. Harry liked his look immediately.

The other two solicitors set his hackles rising. The male was introduced as Mr. Moorslough. With slicked back black hair, swarthy skin and sharp featured with a pointed chin, he irresistibly reminded Harry of a dark complected Draco Malfoy. Then he took a good look at the exotic vulpine featured woman to Moorslough's left as she introduced herself as Mrs. Cacoethes. She made Fleur Delacour look plain. Even bound in a no nonsense businesswoman bun, her hair gleamed like black gold, brilliant, slanted amethyst coloured eyes gleamed as though back-lit. She scared the Hell out of Harry.

Harry was now old enough not to blindly react to his perceived threat from her. His brain caught up to his instincts with the thought that the goblins would never allow a threat to him inside their walls. Murmured greetings were politely passed, and Halberdmaster opened the meeting with a request for a precis of Wolfram and Hart's findings in support of his clients position. A huge bulky file stuffed with parchment and paper was produced from

Mrs. Cacoethes _basilisk_ hide briefcase, and from the file she extracted a thin folder that she passed to Harry.

Harry opened the folder and spent three minutes briefly skimming the first three pages before passing the folder to Hermione who read through the contents in less time than Harry had spent skimming the opening pages. The Wolfram and Hart couple eyes widened slightly at such cavalier treatment of their work, but Harry knew every word in that folder now resided in Hermione's formidable brain.

At a slight gesture of his left hand, Hermione started to question the sources cited.

"I see your first reference is from the defeat of Queen Voadicia (2) by the Roman Governor Gaius Suetonius Paulinus. He and his wizards took a lions share of the spoils of defeated Iceni chieftains, and the premier war wizard was actually given Voadicia herself as a chattel due to his spells finally over-powering her protector druids. How do you equate Harry to a duly appointed Military Governor suppressing a revolt?"

The five minute, very scholarly exposition by Mr. Moorslough boiled down to, "Every interview with battle participants showed Lord Potter was the person everyone at the castle looked to for salvation and hope for defeating the usurper Voldemort."

"For your second example, you use a pair of DaneLaw victories by minor kinglets against some rebellious underlings in 709 A.D. The kings wizards were awarded properties titles and slaves from the defeated chieftains. Again, why these examples for the gifting of wizards with the spoils of war?"

Again Moorslough used the leadership position reason.

Again Hermione asked about another war related passing of spoils. This time from King Alfred the Greats era. (3)

Harry thought he was starting to understand why Hermione was questioning the Wolfram and Hart representatives. All their examples had a _muggle_ gifting the spoils to their tame wizards.

Harry figured Hermione wanted _wizards_ doling out the spoils after a conquest.

"Miss Granger," said Harry. "Enough. Perhaps what we want is not in the summery."

He deliberately ignored the glares from across the table

He continued on, "Solicitor Fencroft, do you have further information for us?"

Fencroft repeated the act of bringing a massive folder up onto the table and removing a thin folder, then passing it over to Harry, who skimmed the first three pages before passing the precis to Hermione. She did her speed reading act and closed the folder.

Reading her body language, Harry rose and politely thanked the Wolfram and Hart solicitors for all their work, and gave Halberdmaster the sign that the goblins were to escort them from Gringotts.

As soon as the door closed on the departing foursome, Andromeda had Fencroft's complete folder in front of her and Narcissa had the Wolfram and Hart folder and was attacking its contents like a shark.

"Hermione? Mr. Fencroft?" Harry spoke from his still standing position. "How about some tea?"

The other two arose and stepped over to the tea service set at the far end of the room. With teacups in hand, Harry steered the conversation around to how Fencroft had found the examples he used in his evidentiary papers.

As the man expounded on the goblin archives that had showed Merlin apportioning spoils of conquest from rebellion against Uther Pendragon and another against Arthur, the teens paid close attention. Fencroft had just launched into the Roundhead Rebellion where wizard supporters of Oliver Cromwell had acted as independent troops (4) when Halberdmaster and Reaverfromshadow re-entered the room. While being acknowledged by Harry, he also indicated he wanted to keep talking with Fencroft. After all, his knowledge was that Cromwell was a strict religionist, who would have burned at the stake any wizard he found.

"In fact, Lord Potter," an enthusiastic Fencroft was carrying on, "Lord Cromwell's third in command at the Battle of Gainsborough was a wizard and made one of your ancestors who had fought bravely, a Protector of a part of East Anglia. The same ancestor also appropriated several wizarding properties in Devon and Cornwall during the mopping up phase of the War. He was also awarded three minor patents of muggle nobility. Unfortunately the last one lapsed in 1855 when the last heir of that branch died in Russia."

"Sorry, I'm nattering on" the lawyer continued. "What you want to know is that the Wizengamot, in 1652, granted Baron Thomas Potter ownership of all the lands he had acquired in the Civil War."

For the first time Hermione spoke up. "Therefor you believe that a wizard commander can cede some spoils of warfare to his subordinates."

"The Wizengamot has granted spoils of war to the Potter family already in its history. It is practically a tradition. And you know how much the Wizengamot loves tradition." Fencroft answered with a smile.

The smile went away.

"Most unfortunately, the last several years has shown that facts and tradition will get trampled underfoot if enough gold is spread around."

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Two days later.

The newest Assistant Professors at the soon to be re-opened Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had told everyone to go home, buy their Hogwarts supplies, take a week vacation and beg some galleons from their parents for the food needed for the Eighth Year kitchen.

Harry and Hermione were on a walk-around the castle as neither had found the time to just roam the school and marvel at the repair work that had gone on elsewhere.

The Entrance, the Great Hall and the major hallways had been repaired with only some cosmetic damage remaining. Most of the portraits were back on the walls. The great towers for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were whole and climbed skyward once more. The Hufflepuff and Slytherin dormitories had taken little damage from the fighting and the Slytherin common room looked as Harry remembered it from second year. Outside three of the greenhouses had been repaired, replaced and stocked. Neville had confided that Professor Sprout had apparently called in every graduate in Herbology Hogwarts had ever produced to get them ready for the school year.

The classrooms they had spent six years going to looked clean and ready. Some of them carried better memories then others. By mutual consent they avoided the boathouse where Snape had been brutally killed and the corridor where Fred had died.

Harry deliberately ended the tour on the seventh floor west corridor. Taking Hermione's hand he closed his eyes and quietly let his magic `listen'.

"Can you feel it Hermione? It's there. Faint but I can feel it humming. I think that enough magic has been expended in this castle, in _her_ , during the last three months that Hogwarts is, well, recovering. She's coming back."

"Her, Harry?"

"Well, yeah. How could this castle be anything but a nurturing mother?"

Hermione felt nothing. No tug like Harry had talked about months ago. Not that hum that had Harry actually smiling. Tears formed as she felt she was a failure because she could not feel that `something' that Harry truly wanted to share with her.

Hermione spoke during their walk back.

"Harry, why don't we sleep in our new suite tonight. Let's pack up the tent and enjoy what our hard work has produced."

Harry thought that was a capital idea, and once they were back in Fluffy's room, their belongings were packed into their backpacks and the tent collapsed and shrunk in less than twenty minutes.

A short walk down the hall, and they opened the door into what would become their quarters for the last ten months of their time at Hogwarts. There was a small cloak closet on the right just inside the door. A very short hall led to the suites common room. A couch, a love seat, and a pair of large squishy armchairs were grouped around a low table in front of a fireplace. Two fairly large tables with four plain wooden chairs completed the furniture. On the far wall there were two doors.

The right side door led to Harry's room with a large canopy bed, a large wardrobes, a chest of drawers and a small desk and chair. The door on the left led to an identical room for Hermione. Their ensuite bathroom was between the bedrooms. Harry re-made a mental note to buy a lot of quills, ink and parchment. McGonagall had said, galleons were tight, therefor supplies would be tight. And another note to also buy paper, pencils, pens and a pair of filing cabinets. Hermione in particular would be passing out handouts that had never been seen in the wizarding world before. She was virtually writing her own book and creating teaching materials for her Mundane Studies courses McGonagal had assigned her. Part one of her attack on PureBlood prejudices was to reject the word muggle with all its centuries' long inferiority connotations.

"Finley," Harry called. A Hogwarts elf who was assigned to them by McGonagal popped into Harry's bedroom.

"Yes Professor Potter sir," he said.

"Finley, I need you to get our beds made for use tonight. Professor Granger and I will be sleeping here. When you are done, would you please bring some warm cocoa to us"

"At once, Professor Savior Potter." And with a small pop the elf disappeared.

Harry shook his head as he walked back to the common room. He was going to have to have a talk with their assigned house elf.

Hermione had beaten him into the room and was curled up in the middle of the couch in front of the fireplace with a book in her lap. She gave him a small smile as he sat down next to her.

"Reckon this place could use a bit of `home-iness' when we get back?" she said with a small smile.

"I'll ask Tilitsy if there are any unused tapestries lying around the manor or buried in the vaults somewhere. Seems we forgot to get our suit decorated. Our bad."

At that point the conversation got interrupted by Finley popping back in with two mugs and a carafe of nice warm cocoa. Thanking Finley and taking some appreciative sips of the comfort drink occupied a couple of minutes before Hermione spoke again.

"Are we going to be ready for Monday?" she inquired.

"As ready as we will ever be"

Once again, silence settled upon them.

They spent the next half-hour occasionally talking about class schedules and their teaching syllabus'.

Finley quietly appeared in front of the two sleeping teens on the couch. Hermione was half lying on Harry, her faintly smiling face laid on Harry's chest. A muffled finger snap later, a warm fuzzy blanket covered them up, and Finley left the room with the empty cocoa tray.

 **A/N:**

 **One – With apologies to Johnny Paycheck, perhaps the greatest line from a US Country and Western song ever. Slightly changed of course.**

 **Two – Anglicized, Boduccia.**

 **Three – 850-899 A.D. Only British king with "Great" following his name.**

 **Four - This is prior to the implementation of the Statute of Secrecy in 1692.**


	13. Chapter 13

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 13

As usual, all known characters in the HP firmament belong to JK Rowling

I'm doing this for no knuts, sickles, galleons or fame. Where did I go wrong?

 **Please read Authors Notes at end of chapter**

The good blokes are going to win this, right?

Right?

September 1, 1998

"Ready?" said Lord Potter-Black.

Three nods of affirmation were returned to him.

"Tilitsy, the doors". And with that, the four of them strode through the doorway into the reception room of Potter Manor. Harry had Hermione on his left arm with Andromeda and Narcissa arrayed half a step back off their outside shoulders. All of their robes rippled with the finest materials available. Acromantula silk would have looked plebian next the form fitting knit of demiguese hair, silver thread and spelled Shantung silk. The fittings that were not silver, were gold. The fittings that had space, carried mounted gems that sparkled in the light pouring in through the rooms large windows. The Weasley's could have sent all their children to Hogwarts and vacationed around the world for the robes cost.

There were three PureBlood Lords awaiting their entrance. With them were their wives, an advisor if wanted, and the requested heir.

"Ah, my Lord MacMillan. Pleased you could make time in your busy schedule to meet with us on the weighty matters that will soon be needing our attention at the next Wizengamot session," said Lord Potter-Black.

With that greeting, he bowed.

"I thank you Lord Potter-Black," returned Lord Garangal Macmillan. "May I introduce you to my wife Emily, Lady MacMillan, and of course you know my grand-son Ernest."

Thanks to intense tutoring by Narcissa and Andromeda, Harry now actually knew some things about his acquaintance. Ernie Macmillan, returning Eighth Year Hufflepuff, member of both iterations of Dumbledore's' Army, was second Heir of the second heir, to the Most Ancient and Noble House of MacMillan. And according to Neville, one of the better teachers and leaders he had in the Room of Requirement last year. Not all Harry's interactions with Ernie of Hufflepuff had been positive over the years, but except for the Heir of Slytherin and the Tri-wizard tournament, had usually been cordial.

"Lord MacMillan, may I present Order of Merlin designate Miss Hermione Granger, Madam Tonks and Madam Black." With a small smile he spoke to Ernie. "Ernie, it is good to see you. You know Hermione of course"

Turning his attention back to Lord Macmillan he quietly spoke again. "My Lord, I have the duty of other guests to greet. Please excuse me. We will be talking in the study in about twenty minutes. If there is anything you want, please let it be known to the staff."

Harry then drifted off to his right to greet Lord Boot, his wife, sons Terrington (Terry) and Bosworth. After the same short greetings he moved off to meet Lord Abingdon Entwhistle and his Lady Entwhistle. In addition to Kevin, they had brought his father Gaither.

The Potter-Black group then split up to mingle with their invited guest groups. Andromeda quietly talked `women' shop with the trio of wives. Hermione gathered the heirs together as they could all talk `Hogwarts' talk. The PureBlood tutoring lessons would probably keep Hermione from making any gaffs with the older family members, but keeping her occupied with people who mostly knew her should keep any mistakes minor. Harry on the other hand was going to be under scrutiny from moment one. He and Narcissa by necessity gravitated to the Lordship group as politics at the highest level was going to occur today and Harry was a new comer who had barely spoken to the other Lords. It was his immense prestige, and their curiosity, that had brought them to his manor today. And the fact that if the wives had ever found out his invitation had been refused; there would have been hell to pay. The social fame to be garnered from the first families to visit Potter Manor and meet The-Boy-Who-Conquered was beyond price.

After twenty minutes of small talk, Harry politely asked the group of Lords if he and Madam Black could borrow Lord MacMillan for a short meeting. A look in Hermione's direction had her directing Ernie to join the group that moved off through a newly opened doorway that led to a flight of stairs that took the small party up near Lord Potter's study.

The MacMillan's seated themselves in front of Harry's large desk. Narcissa took a smaller advisor chair on the left side of the desk.

"My Lord," started Harry. "I have your word that what we speak of today in this room will not be repeated to others except your family whom I assume know how to keep family secrets?"

Lord MacMillan just looked back at Harry for almost a minute before nodding assent.

He then spoke quietly. "You, my young Lord have been taught well by the Sisters. I am pleased you have taken their lessons to heart. You have impressed me despite our short acquaintance, so you have my word."

"You have intimated to Ernest that you want to steal him from me for some plan of yours. Would you produce that plan now, or shall we dance around for a while longer?"

Harry didn't even have to glance at Narcissa to sense the small self-satisfied smirk barely showing on her aristocratic mask. She had wagered him five galleons that Lord Garangal MacMillan would get straight to the point and not beat around the bush with vague, meaningless platitudes.

Harry tilted his head as an acknowledgement of Lord MacMillan's astuteness. "Yes, my Lord. I intend to steal Ernie away from you. Yet at the same time, I want him to have enough intelligence to use you and his father as a resource to keep him in the position I want him to accept."

Lord MacMillan looked back at Harry with curiosity. What could a young Lord Potter-Black offer the second son of a second son of a Most Ancient and Noble House? Ernest's social prestige and wealth were very high already.

Taking what he hoped was an unobtrusive deep breath, Harry spoke.

"I want Ernie, yes Ernie, the young man I know, not Second Heir Ernest MacMillan, to become the new Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Nott."

Again, nobody in the room moved for over a minute. Lord Macmillan was thinking furiously. Ernie wasn't thinking at all. He was frozen in total shock. And Harry and Narcissa were letting the situation run its course as Plan `A' seemed to be holding up.

The silence kept stretching along. Harry was having an almost overwhelming urge to start fidgeting. "The Lords-Black-Do-Not-Fidget" careened through Harry's head in Narcissa's voice. Harry was almost about to break and glance at the clock when Lord MacMillan broke the silence.

"My Lord, I can think of a couple of ways _you_ could take control of the House of Nott. You can prove that you killed Lord Nott?"

"No," replied Harry. "I can prove I caused the death of Heir Theodore Nott _after_ Lord Caractacus Nott had been killed by others."

This declaration led to another period of thinking silence by Lord MacMillan finally broken by,

"So, it appears you have two other noble families that you intend to claim lordship over, and you intend to offer the `spare' heirs of Houses Boot and Entwistle to become their heads?"

Instead of instantly replying, Harry made a point of asking Narcissa for input.

"Madam Black, due to my inexperience, I request your aid at this point in the negotiations." Harry's nerve had given out and he was looking to Narcissa to bail him out before he insulted Lord MacMillan by obviously dodging his question.

"Lord MacMillan," rolled the smooth, posh tones of Narcissa Black, Daughter of House of Black, and for over two decades the real power and intelligence behind Lucius Malfoy. "That much is obvious from us letting you meet and treat with their Lordships here. We could have offered sophistry and negotiated from the shadows. That is not the House of Potter way. My Lord's goal is to keep the Dark from arising again in Britain during his, and his children's, lifetime. He has determined that heavy influence in the Wizengamot is what is needed to achieve his goal."

"One possible way is to make all the Houses he will receive under Right of Conquest vassals of House Potter. That way he could insure that those houses will never contribute money, gold or influence to the Dark again. It also would mean the remainder of the Wizengamot would unite to oppose my Lords ideals and ideas no matter how harmful to our country that resistance would become. Lord Potter-Black has absolutely no ambition to spend decades as either a dictator to our world, or constantly having to fight for his literal life and the lives of his children."

"Another, more palatable plan, would give the notoriously dark families a new Light Head of House who would never give an iota of support to The Dark. Ideally, the new Lords of House would help in our quest to modernize and modify our dying culture."

At that statement Lord MacMillan raised his eyebrows.

Narcissa bore on. "Would not you say we are a dying culture? Remember the many PureBlood family lines the two rises of Tom Riddle erased from the wizarding world. I am sure Sir, you know how rare your family is in having several possible heirs. In point of fact, if many of the PureBlood Dark families had as many possible heirs as the MacMillan's, we would not be having this conversation."

After another two minutes of thoughtful silence, Harry picked up a folder of parchment and restarted the conversation. "My Lord, we do not need an answer today, but need a reply to our proposal by Friday. And I will draw your attention to clause eighteen in this agreement. I do not want anyone to think we are trying to bury or hide important information from those we hope to have as staunch allies. To be blunt, most of the families of the dead Death Eaters will be stripped of many of their assets by the Ministry. In fact, without proper management, most will be a liability rather than an asset for several years."

"Ernest is not being given a sinecure. He is going to be worked like a Death Eater house elf."

"Lord Boot, we would be most pleased if you and your family here could give us some of your valuable time. Would you come with me . . ."

"Lord Entwistle, we are very pleased you found time in your busy schedule to visit Potter Manor. If you would follow me to . . ."

And soon the Dark Houses of Flint and Bletchley had their fates handed to others.

The next day, Lords Goldstein, Seafort and Castleward came to be the arbiters of the fate of House Selwyn, Houses Crabbe and Goyle and House Warrington.

Wednesday it was the Lords Longbottom, Uttuxbridge and Lyttlebury.

Lord Longbottom would be the arbiter of the fate of House Blythe. Uttuxbridge and Lyttlebury agreed to become the judges that would decide if the Houses of Parkenson and Avery would survive.

Ten heirless houses, seven of them Lordships, were soon to change or go extinct.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Lord Neville Longbottom and his grandmother Dame Augusta stayed for a very pleasant working dinner afterward. At least it was pleasant until during dessert. The three de-facto leaders of the DA started laying out tentative plans on what might have to be done the first day or so regarding how they wanted the returning Syltherins and other children of deceased Death Eaters treated this year at Hogwarts.

Their conversation managed to actually stun Narcissa Black, the ultimate un-flapable PureBlood, into the exclamation, "Are you three daft? You cannot _do_ that!"

Andromeda and Augusta Longbottom were equally stunned. Their brains were merely refusing to send nerve impulses to their mouths. The young three had just laid out to the older witches their plans on what would essentially be a coup against the Hogwarts staff after the traditional Welcome Feast.

The older witches arguments boiled down to "Its never been done before."

The younger trio's counter argument boiled down to, "So what? The times are a-changing. Your generation failed to fix the problems first time around. Since we had to re-do the fighting, we will do the changing."

The Wednesday night dinner was one of final relaxation for Harry and Hermione. The Black sisters had returned to Grimmauld place. Andromeda to be with her baby grandson Teddy and Aunt Narcissa went with her. Both had missed the four month old terribly. A nanny house elf just could not mother a baby like the two sisters felt they could.

"So, Harry, you are going to hold on to the Moragaine Family and not `foster' them out?"

It was a question that they had not come up with a satisfactory answer for. The Ancient House of Moragaine was unique in wizarding Great Britain in that the Lord Moragaine line was Matrilineal. It was passed from daughter to daughter. They kept the Lord designation for the Head of House and were a notorious Neutral Grey house known for producing powerful, ruthless witches.

Around two hundred years ago, a coalition of arrogant, patriarchal wizards in the Wizengamot made an attempt to have the House dissolved and the assets and members taken over by designated wizards. The enterprise collapsed within week. Four Heads of House or Heirs had disappeared never to be seen or heard from again. Three other members of the coalition had been found in Diagon Alley. Two Head of House rings and an Heir ring were the only method of identifying the piles of red goop that appeared in the middle of the Alley one afternoon.

For almost two hundred years no overt attempts at wizard control of House Moragaine had been made. No one had yet given an explanation why the 'Lord' and her only daughter had joined the virulently misogynistic Voldemort as marked Death Eaters. The daughter had died during the first attack on the courtyard and during the final attack the Lord Madelaine had died after a Bone Breaker curse from Harry had caught her in the ribs and her collapse onto a pile of rubble had driven several broken ribs into her lungs, collapsing them. She had drowned in her own blood.

"Yes. I would give them to Narcissa except we still desperately need her around as our unofficial chatelaine. The longer we can stay screened by her and Andi as our PureBlood cover, the longer I have to gather support for the Wizengamot's equinox session. We will take any votes we can from anyone who thinks those two are helping to control me."

Hermione's heart jumped at Harry's use of `we'. He was the person sitting in the Wizengamot, the visible face of the opening moves in their campaign. He could have said `I'.

The two tired teens continued with their idle small talk. Agreeing to make a short supply trip into Diagon Alley tomorrow for the last special books they would need for their advanced classes, wondering who would insist on clarifications to their acquiring of the headless dark houses, maybe Harry could squeeze in a short visit to Teddy. Both figured that they would have to be available for final signings of the take-over documents Friday and Saturday.

Harry finally headed off to an early bedtime while Hermione decided to read in the library for a while.

Two damaged souls spent a miserable night. Neither able to breach the walls they had built around the early damage to their self-worth. Neither able to muster the courage needed to grasp the others offered lifeline. Fear is the strongest driver of paralysis by analysis.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Their plans actually worked.

First, the duo found a muggle print shop where Hermione got her self-made Mundane Studies course books copied, collated and bound. One hundred copies of one hundred paper pages each.

Under glamours, Hermione and Harry had finished off their books and other supplies purchases without being mobbed to death in Diagon alley, and they managed a several hour visit to 12 Grimmauld Place to see a fascinated Teddy who was just of age to start having some control over his metamorph abilities. He actually had brief control over changing his eye and hair colours to match the amazed youngsters. Harry had to be pried away from Teddy as the feelings of love and family he got from holding the baby almost overwhelmed him

Harry needed large amounts of the goblin healing potions for the Blood Quills marks left from the mass signings of the documents at Gringotts that would control the transfer of stewardship of the Right of Conquest families from House Potter to the designated Houses. Only Lord Uttuxbridge turned out to be thick enough to want clarification of Clause 18 in the Dark families Right of Conquest transfer documents. Yes, Clause 18 meant that in return for your House gaining control of the vaults, properties, business' and chattels of Ancient House of Parkinson, (after the Ministry `fined' them for being on the losing side), in return, for the next five years, twice each year, both Houses were obligated to vote in the Wizengamot as instructed by the Lord of House Potter or his designated proxy. Except for the aforesaid twice per year, for the five years from the document signing, House Uttuxbridge and House Parkinson could vote their conscience, alliances or whims for all other Wizengamot votes.

The Potter-Blacks and their close allies had concluded that making the voting restrictions last forever would breed resentment and foment rebellion within their alliance after about five to seven years. By that time, if enlightened self-interest could not keep them allied, perhaps family relocation out of Britain would be re-considered.

 **Author Note:**

 **Apologies for the very short chapter.**

 **I could not shoehorn it anywhere else.**

 **However, any longer, and this chapter could be used as an insomnia cure.**

 **Next chapter, I stumble my way onto the Hogwarts Express. At last.**

 **It is in final editing. The next chapter, 15, is killing me. Might be time**

 **to off my hamster muse if he does not start producing.**

 **It is time to winterize our trailer by moving it south for the winter.**

 **In my case, traveling and writing do not mix well. I expect there will be**

 **no more chapters posted until the end of November.**


	14. Chapter 14

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 14

ACK! Forgot the standard disclaimer!

All known character rights belong to JK Rowling.

Imagine, a trip from London to Scotland on iron rails in less than nine hours?

Will wonders never cease?

Monday, September 7, 1998

There it was. The bright red, gleaming steam engine and string of coaches that would magically transport hundreds of youngsters to their home for the next ten months.

Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny had decided for nostalgias sake, to enter platform 9 ¾ through the wall between platforms 9 and 10. They pushed no trolleys ahead of them. No barking owls in cages, no squalling cats accompanied them.

They were Eighth Year students.

Such _untidy_ ways of boarding the train were beneath them.

In other words, they had discovered how the Shrinking Charm could make carrying large, awkward trunks as easy as a _Reducio_ , a wand tap, and put the now small book size trunk in a pocket.

The wall magically `opened' for business at 10:00 A.M. and the four of them strolled through the wall in their muggle clothes at 10:01. A wand tap dropped the Disillusionment Charm showing the foursome in high-quality school robes. Harry, Ron and Hermione's robes had the piping trim on them that would alert the upper classmen that the three of them were considered professors. Ginny's red and gold trimmed Gryffindor robes were adorned with a golden pin with a large "C" engraved on it showing she was the Captain of the Quidditch team. Ron's robes were plain black but flaunting a new pin that looked like a miniature broomstick to show his status as the Flying Instructor for Hogwarts.

"Well, there seems to be a whole lot of no one here now," was Ron's comment on the fact that the platform was deserted at the moment.

The comment earned a glare from Hermione as it was at her insistence that they had arrived so early. Her argument had been that as responsible older students, they had a duty to help make this Hogwarts Express boarding run smoothly. The other three knew what she really meant was that if the new Head Boy and Head Girl bollixed up, Hermione was going to swoop in like an avenging guardian angel to straighten out any problems.

After the three traded smirks at how easily they had wound up Hermione, Ron headed off to claim them a compartment for the trip and Ginny wanted a compartment for the re-born Gryffindor quidditch team.

Two minutes later a soft roaring noise came from the floo fireplace at the far end of the platform. A pair of uniform robed aurors stepped out of the green flames onto the platform. Espying Harry and Hermione they walked over to them obviously intent on asking who they were and why they were there so early. In less than a minute they were close enough to recognize the teens.

"Lord Potter, Miss Granger. I am Senior Auror Jackson and this is my partner Auror Hunter. Lord Vincent Kirkwood, acting head of the DMLE asked us to pass on his compliments and to wish you a productive year in completing your education."

Harry blinked before extending his hand towards the auror. "Please thank Lord Kirkwood for his kind words," he said shaking the two aurors hands.

"For your information, my Lord we will have eight aurors here eventually. The Director feels that is enough for any minor trouble that may occur, yet not so many as to make us look that we are still afraid. And my personal thanks for removing the chance for major trouble that would have kept us afraid."

Harry nodded his head and the aurors turned and walked back towards the floo.

"Well, that was about the best fanboy run-in we've had," remarked Hermione.

"Senior Auror Jackson," Harry called. "Just so you know."

At that, Harry and Hermione both produced a glamour that changed their appearance. They were a simple hair color and small facial changes, but the disguises should hold until the train departed. Hermione had gotten creative with straight medium blonde hair and bright green eyes. Harry went with simplicity. Brown hair, brown eyes.

It only took about two seconds for the auror to catch on. "I understand Lord Potter."

Hermione also transfigured her robes into a light blue short-sleeve jumper with black jeans and black ankle boots. She walked back through the wall as she and Harry had planned a week ago.

Hermione was to make sure the muggleborn, (the Mundaneborn as she insisted they should be called.) had no problems finding and entering through the wall to the platform. Harry stayed where he was as a back-up to keep the _mundanes_ moving to prevent clogging the entrance. Headmistress McGonagall had told them weeks ago that she and the remaining professors were over stretched to fix the castle, plan their classes and perform the usual introductions to the wizarding world for this years muggleborns _and_ the survivors from the Death Eater hunts of those who should have been _last_ years first year muggleborn or halfblood students who had a muggle parent.

Most had successfully hidden, but not all.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Hermione was becoming increasingly frustrated at the people who just _would not_ believe that all they had to do was walk through the wall between platforms 9 and 10 to the Hogwarts Express. The first half hour had gone fairly smooth as she had time to explain to each family what they had to do. Now with only twenty minutes until the 11:00 A.M. departure, families were starting to pile up at the wall as more _Mundane_ families than usual arrived, and with a slew of _Mundane_ raised Halfbloods, the crowd of people in front of the wall was starting to become hard to hide. Hermione did not dare to cast a more powerful Notice-Me-Not charm around them for fear a mundane family might miss the area entirely.

"I will not ask if there is a problem here," came a familiar voice from behind her. She spun around only to look into a pair of brown eyes that looked familiar for some reason.

She banished the confusing thought.

"Harry, thank Merlin you're here. Can you take over getting people through the wall? You may have to throw some of them," she finished exasperatedly. "I am going to cast a stronger Notice-Me-Not Charm here, then I'll go further down the platform and keep looking for any strays. Suits?"

Harry nodded and after Hermione circled her wand, muttering under her breath, and strode up the concourse, Harry dropped his glamour charm and pasted a smile on his face.

In a raised voice he spoke "Ladies, gentlemen and future Hogwarts students. Can I have your attention?" Pause. "My name is Harry Potter, and I have a train I need to catch. For that to happen I need you to start passing through this barrier onto platform 9 ¾'s."

The shock of seeing THE Harry Potter froze the crowd for a moment, then people surged forward. Harry had positioned himself so that as a person shook his right hand, his left hand on their back pressed them through the barrier. He shook every hand, man woman and child. Every one of them had a smile lighting up their face as they passed the barrier.

"Bloody fame finally has a positive side," Harry thought scathingly.

Two minutes after the last person passed, Hermione came practically running up to Harry.

"Let's go, sluggard," she laughed. "We have two minutes to `catch' that train." For some reason her attitude was infectious. The crowd of parents standing on the platform waving tearful farewell to their children, were treated to the sight of the un-glamoured, very recognizable Lord Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, huge grins on their faces, arm-in-arm, practically skipping along the platform. Laughing, with her bushy pony tail bouncing along, they ran up the last carriage steps just as the engine whistle screamed and the train began to move.

Still grinning like loons, the duo walked up the carriage aisle looking for Ron and whomever else they knew.

Unfortunately for the duo, their weaving run to the train had been seen by scores of students leaning out of the windows waving good-bye to their parents. Therefore, their progress forward through the carriages was slow as many of the older students popped out into the passageway to thank them, shake their hand or just stare at them as they squeezed past.

The now slightly frazzled duo found Ron had a compartment halfway up the string of coaches. Neville and Luna had joined him. Hermione flipped a quick, low powered Notice-Me-Not charm at the door.

At the questioning faces she muttered that their friends should be able to find them. She just wanted to keep the riff-raff away.

The group spent an hour playing catch-up about everybody's week at "home."

Hermione quickly enlarged her book bag and found a book to read. Luna produced a copy of the Quibbler and the three guys started taking about how they were going to teach parts of their classes. Neville quit the conversation when Luna folded her Quibbler, leaned against his shoulder and started to nap. He started blushing when the other two started to give him the universal guy look that says "What have you got going on? Hmmm?"

After a few minutes, Hermione closed her book and proceeded to emulate Luna except she decided Harry's shoulder would be her pillow. With Harry starting to nod, Ron decided to go find Seamus or Dean for some real guy talk.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Four cars further up the train.

"Yes, he might listen to me if I ask him to give you an audience."

"Would you accept a minor favor as payment?"

"I might perhaps even do it for free."

THAT left the other three females in the compartment with eyes as big as a house elf's. A Slytherin making an effort on someone else's behalf for no return was unheard of.

She continued. "If this introduction allows me continued access to him, I will consider the scales balanced. However besides school, he will have a lot of his time taken by the Wizengamot for their Autumnal Equinox meetings. He has to officially announce himself as Lord Potter and Lord Black to claim his seats on the Wizengamot, Since he will be claiming eight votes in the 'Mot, all for the Light side, my father expects a great deal of . . . infighting during the session."

Her eyes unfocused. "I remember he said the Dark was desperate, and would use any tactics from innuendo to lies to assassination against him."

Silence fell among the three as they contemplated the massive changes the last four months had brought to the world. And they had all been charged with keeping their parents abreast of any information they obtained regarding their year-mate, Harry Potter. All the `old' families were on edge with the swell of changes they feared were coming.

"I would not try talking to him until after the Wizengamot session. Perhaps he will have time then."

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Some children can be fairly resilient, given lack of fear for their families and themselves. There were many conversations that were normal for any year.

"No, that has not changed this year. Quidditch tryouts will be the last week in September," Ginny said.

"Will Ron be our Keeper again?" replied Demelza.

Ginny looked at the kids who were, hopefully, going to be most of the Gryffindor team. Two chasers, Demelza Robins and herself. The pair of beaters from two years ago, Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote.

"No, we will need a new Keeper, Chaser and a Seeker." She said. "Ron will be doing Madam Hooch's job this year. In fact the Headmistress told me Eighth Years will not be allowed on House teams this year."

"What?"

"Why not?"

"That's insane, that is!"

"McGonagall said it was to keep the teams from becoming too top-heavy with seventh and eighth years.

That comment lead to several minutes of silence.

Six compartments further up the train.

"I still can't believe it. I mean after all we went through last year. Just when I thought we could be a normal couple he broke up with me last week! How could he do this to me?" she wailed.

Her friends hugged her and tried to dab at the flowing tears with their handkerchiefs. And they all agreed with her, and each other, that boys were just the stupidest prats in the world.

Not every conversation was as normal.

"Justin! How have you been? It's good to see you. There were a couple of rumors that the snatchers had gotten you." The voice of fellow Eighth Year Wayne Hopkins seemed just a shade too loud, a bit too fast to Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Hello, Wayne. No, no snatchers for me. In fact, I've only been back less than two months. I took Potter and Grangers advice and most of my family spent the year on Malta. My parents are still afraid of those secretly connected to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, so I could not even go to Hogwarts for the special testing. I merely accepted my class grades from before Dumbledore's death. Haven't really talked to anyone about last year. Was it as bad as I have heard?"

Pause. Hopkins looked away.

"No, it was worse."

Uncomfortable silence descended on the compartment as the four occupants turned their memories inward.

Second car from the end, second compartment.

"Hello, my name is Melinda D'Avignon." When she had the attention of all the occupants in the compartment, she continued. "This badge I'm wearing shows that I am a Sixth Year Hufflepuff prefect. I see nothing but worried faces in this compartment. Could you tell me what the problem is?"

The fear on youngsters faces was terrible to see and had her stomach knotting up.

The smallest, a girl with a mop of brown curls dressed in Ravenclaw colors finally spoke.

"I don't want to go. They hurt us there last year. Are the teachers going to hurt us again?"

Melinda's heart almost broke in two hearing the question. "No. The teachers will not hurt you this year. The bad teachers are all gone."

After a minute of thinking silence. "What about the Slytherins? They going to practice the Crutiatus on us again?" The boy, with Gryffindor colors showing, looked like the older brother of the small girl who had spoken.

Melinda sat down on the end of the seat. It was sit down or fall down as her suddenly weak legs threatened collapse. _"I have no idea how to fix this," she thought._

It was almost three hours into the trip, during the prefects meeting in the Heads compartment, that the utter collapse of young student morale became an issue. D'Avignon was not the only prefect who was devastated by the returning second and third year's reaction about the trip to Hogwarts. Even the two Slytherin prefects were in shock over their young house returnees who looked like they wanted to spit in their faces and hex them into oblivion for last year.

No one had a magic spell that could fix the problem. The discussion had been fruitlessly going on for half an hour when the Gryffindor sixth year male prefect finally shouted everyone else down.

"Fencroft or McGeough, at least one of you has to go find the Golden Trio and convince them to make a tour of the train"

The outraged ego driven explosions about how `We did not need any help with this problem. We're the ones selected as prefects,' raged for about a minute before Head Girl Verbena Fencroft let off a near window shattering noise maker from her wand.

"Prefect Nichols, That is a very good idea." She glared around the rest of the compartment.

"The rest of you seem to prefer arguing instead of solving, so Shut It." She continued, "Who has the next patrol?" A pair of seventh years, a Gryff and a 'Puff raised their hands.

"If either of you see the Trio, send me a message. Alright Nichols, it was your suggestion. Let's go find them. McGeough, how about you stay here where someone can find you if there are more problems."

It took them twenty minutes to first find Ron, who after listening to the problem figured this was a situation to be kicked up the command chain to wiser heads, and so took the Head Girl and Nichols to the charmed compartment.

Verbena had to work against showing her shock upon seeing how exhausted four of the wizarding world's foremost heroes looked as they quickly awoke reaching for wands as the door opened.

"Sorry to disturb your kip, mates, but the Head Girl here needs a word or two with you lot." Ron said.

At the words `Head Girl', Hermione's hand just kept on pulling her wand from her sleeve. Harry with a very casual move reached over and pulled her wand hand into his lap, pinning it there.(1)

Luna and Neville looked on with interest. Hermione was attempting to kill Harry with a death glare while unobtrusively trying to free her wand arm from Harry's grip. Harry just looked resigned as a premonition stole over him.

"Lord Potter, there is a problem? A situation? On the train and in my opinion with your help, perhaps we can resolve it," the Head Girl started rather nervously. She went on about the unhappiness and almost terror the younglings had about returning to the castle. When she started into the tortures they had been subjected to, Harry raised his hand cutting off the flow of words.

"Miss Fencroft, what is your solution?"

Verbena took a deep breath. She had no idea what Lord Potter's reaction would be to her request. "If you would, My Lor . ."

"Just Professor Potter will do," Harry interrupted.

That comment not only stopped the flow of words, but left the Head Girl looking flabbergasted.

"You were saying?" prompted Harry after a few seconds of silence.

"If you could perhaps tour the train? Let the kids see that _you_ are really on the train going to Hogwarts. That would help a lot. They will all believe that if Harry Potter will be at Hogwarts this year, nobody will dare hurt them."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Hermione raised her other hand and stroked the back of her hand down his cheek.

"Needs must when the devil drives, Harry," she said quietly.

The other three knew how much unfurling the banner of his fame would do to him. It was going to be bad enough at the school. This Harry Potter, The-Hero-Who-Walks, could only make it worse.

Since most of the youngest children always seemed to be in the rearmost cars, Harry, Hermione and Ron spent the next three hours slowly making their way from the rear of the train to the front. The Head Girl and a pair of prefects trailed behind often remaining to answer more questions after the Golden Trio had moved on. The questions, usually fearful, were about punishments at the school.

It was heartbreaking. The returning Second, Third and Fourth years could tell horror stories about physical and mental torture that had the trio's gorge rising and only the partial inuring of their own sometimes horrific experiences kept their stomach contents in place.

The new First years were even worse. They had no experience, good or bad, to work from when all the fears of going away to Hogwarts surfaced. Everyone could relate to that fear of that first year of great unknowns. However, than add into the mix the horror stories from older siblings who lived through them, and the youngers then passed the stories on to the true neophytes, and Hermione was frankly surprised half the trains kids weren't catatonic.

Harry could not resist.

He saw Ginny had joined Neville and Luna in their compartment.

As he passed the compartment, he opened the door and asked, "Hello there. I'm Harry Potter and this is Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. I understand you have some worries about going to Hogwarts. Do you want to talk about that?"

Luna and Ginny dissolved into giggles. Neville did a face palm.

"I'll take that as a no. Hermione, Ron, I think we have some tough ones here."

That comment earned some more giggles and a wandless stinging hex from Luna.

"Alright, alright, I surrender. On a serious note, the young kids really, really need some help. Do you three think you could start walking through the train and find any older Quidditch players or DA members? Get one or two of them to a compartment and have them start telling Quidditch stories or prank stories or why cascading rune sets are really brilliant, stories."

The seated trio looked at each other and nodded. Harry smiled, "Thanks."

Oddly, the worshipful progress up the train was not as bad as Harry had feared. Mainly because Hermione and Ron were getting lots of attention also. Ron was getting most of his attention from the Quidditch fans. Apparently The Daily Prophet's articles about the Quidditch pitch re-building had quite a following from the student fanatics. Turned out the man in charge of returning that wondrous sport to Hogwarts had his own fan following.

Hermione had a smaller, yet even more intense set of followers of the brainiac sort. Seems the Brightest Witch of her Age, member of the adventurous Golden Trio, had many awed acolytes ready and eager to follow her footsteps. Finding that she would be an Assistant Professor of Muggle Studies led to several huge sets of eyeballs followed by "Oh, wows."

Harry and Ron smirked at each other at Hermione's obliviousness to the hero worship. Oh, the kids thought it was neat that Harry and Ron would be teaching then DADA and Broom Flying. But, that was sort of the way the world should be. Hermione Granger teaching was exhilarating to the knowledge hounds.

The Heroes Progress slowly inched its way up the length of the Express. The trolley lady somehow managed to get through the crowd. Harry suspected magic was involved. Whenever he found old DA members he repeated his plea for help with the young ones. Most of them nodded and wormed their way back towards the rear of the train.

As the group got further forward, they started finding compartments of older Slytherin's. There they were met with suspicion, dislike, and a few cases of glaring hatred. But nothing verbal. Apparently Draco Malfoy's mush for brains had not been transferred since his death. Those compartments were not asked to contribute people to the young comforters club.

Almost in the last compartment before the prefects room at the very front of the forward most car, Harry found Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, Millicent Bulstrode and a slightly younger, equally stunning, blue-eyed blonde who from the resemblance, was probably the younger Greengrass sister.

Again he repeated his request for help. In this case saying that if they wanted to, they could stick to the Slytherin young, as from their talk, Harry figured the second and third year returnees believed "they were going to be killed by raving hordes of Muggleborns as soon as they stepped through the doors."

Harry had an instant thought that she must have spent too much time in his bed, for as soon as Daphne cocked an eyebrow at him, he knew what she wanted. He spoke softly, "Yes, they do. They are terrified."

Tracey just grinned at him as she rose from her seat and said, "Getting kinda desperate there Potter? Asking Slyther . . excuse me, _ex-Slytherins,_ for an altruistic act?" She mournfully shook her head. "You've finally lost it. My sympathies."

Harry had to grin back. This was the Tracey he liked.

The last several hours of the trip had various members of the DA, and others that Harry and Neville knew, stopping by the compartment to share what had gone on during their `baby sitting' with the young ones. Even those who were like Ginny, and had been the targets of abuse by the Death Eaters and their allies in the school, came by to confess how shocked and dismayed they were by the open fearfulness shown by many under fourth year children.

The ever prepared Hermione Granger had brought this possible problem up to Harry during several of their out of and in-bed-together conversations. And the duo had made some tentative plans in case this happened. Part way through their planning, Harry had grabbed Neville one night and drafted him as one of the leaders of the New-Way-Hogwarts-Was-Going-to-Run. It had taken a couple of evenings of persuasion, and even a regretted-the-next-day late night session with a bottle of Fire Whiskey, before they had the real leader of the DA onboard. This was the plan that had shocked Augusta Longbottom and the Black sisters.

Before reaching Hogsmeade, many of the old DA group had told Harry they would support a decision to bring the problem before the entire school tonight or tomorrow. Any later and "things" could only get worse.

As part of the plan, Harry went back to the compartment occupied by the ex-Slytherins and had a short conversation where he gave her a bare bones description of what he was going to do after the feast, and asked her to bring out her PureBlood Slytherin Ice Princess persona when he needed it.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

"Firs' Years! Firs' Years o'er here! New students, new students o'er here!"

"Thank Merlin some things have not changed," was Harry's thought as Hagrid's booming voice rolled over the Hogsmeade station platform.

The hairy half-giant was holding his lantern high as a beacon for the two groups that were going to take the boat ride that would give them their first dramatic view of the castle.

Harry waved to Hagrid and received a "Har ya, Harry" back.

Harry then turned and rejoined his loose group from the Express for the walk to the carriages that would take them to the castle.

The group picked up on the buzz of general shock with some crying, that swept through the assembled students as almost all the older students could now see the thestrals that pulled the carriages. Harry, because he felt some connection to the thestrals ever since they had ridden them to the Ministry the night that led to Sirius' death, walked up and stroked the face and neck of the closest beast. The skeletal horse shaped creature leaned into the petting with obvious pleasure. Luna led the rest of the group to the creatures and even Ron was able to at least pat one of them.

The Ministry Six piled into the last carriage for the silent ride to Hogwarts.

The only voice during the trip was Harry remarking on how different the trip seemed tonight compared to all the times they had covered it during the summer. The agreement by silence was deafening.

At least the repaired Entrance Hall doors were open with light gleaming through the opening.

Harry looked at the entrance, then looked at Hermione. "Would the Henry V speech about `Once more unto the breach' be appropriate?"

She did not even have the ghost of a smile on her lips. "Yes, Harry. It would be most appropriate. We damned near sealed this doorway once with our English dead."

 **A/N:**

 **If you read the reviews of this work, you will note Alyx33 has been attempting to**

 **improve my spelling and grammar. I have fixed most everything she noted, and**

 **will edit and repost chapters as soon as I learn how editing/reposting is done.**

 **Thank you Alyx.**

 **I've got to quit reading. Finished this chapter and while working on the next, I read**

 **Marry You by Dorothea Greengrass. (Excellent story) and the similarities between**

 **her chapters 6 & 7 and my 14 and 15 are, depending on your outlook, horrifying,**

 **scary or cue the Twilight Zone theme music.**

 **One - See Chapter 10 right after they decide they will accept McGonagall's offer.**

 **Yes, Harry was Lord Potter-Black last chapter. Very useful for impressing the**

 **PureBloods he wants to make allies, the information is not public yet so he is back**

 **to Lord Potter until his Wizengamot investiture at the Autumnal Equinox assemblage.**

 **Considering this was supposed to be chapter five in my original outline, I think**

 **my skipping rats (plot bunnies) are running wild and reproducing.**

 **Inexperienced writers need to learn discipline.**

 **Sadly I have a learning problem.**

 **This is one of my "I feel good about this chapter" chapters.**

 **Please review, even if it is to like or dislike a certain turn of phrase.**

 **I am growing to enjoy them.**

 **(And yes that is a self-serving, ego boost invitation.)**


	15. Chapter 15

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 15

Ah, the dreams beyond avarice I could have if JK Rowling and others

did not own all the rights to the Harry Potter universe.

However, they do.

There are ghosts around every corner

Monday night, September 7, 1998

The Great Hall

The students slowly walked from the Entrance Hall to the Great Hall. Everyone was looking at the walls. Mostly looking for damage. Some would swerve to another side of the corridor to avoid a spot that held a painful memory. And none walked alone. Apparently last year, walking alone was to invite to being painfully hexed or cursed by anyone not on "your" side.

Luna was stopping to talk to some of the portraits, greeting them as old friends and asking if they had been properly taken care of. Hermione was practically going cross-eyed trying to watch for students in distress and keep an eye on Harry as they drew closer to the Great Hall.

Unknown to her, Harry at the moment was cursing the memory of Severus Snape. The skill of Occlumency, if he had been taught it properly, could have helped with the emotions coursing through him as he approached the Great Hall doorway. Instead the bastard had used the `lessons' as a sanctioned outlet for his hatred of James Potter and repeatedly raped Harry's mind.

The memory and loathing of Snape carried Harry to the doorway. Suddenly, he realized that all the other students had stopped short of the great doors and had stepped to the side leaving a walkway. "Oh, shite," thought Harry. Quickly he looked around. Everyone else had stopped or was being stopped. The members of Dumbledore's Army were being pushed and pulled into the open area.

A Ravenclaw, who from his pin was the sixth year male prefect, stepped forward and bowed.

"My Lord Potter, My Lord Longbottom, Order of Merlin Designate Granger and Order of Merlin Designate Weasley. Would you do us the honour of leading the students of Hogwarts into our Great Hall now that this school has returned to being an institution of scholarship again?"

Looking around, Harry could see every DA member he knew, and some he did not know, were looking at him expectantly. Some were straightening up proudly as they were specially singled out. Neville, Padma, Anthony and some others were looking uncomfortable. Panic was starting to bloom in Harry's mind when he realized that Hermione and Ron had stepped up to his side. Hermione merely took his arm and gently squeezed it. Ron leaned in and seemed sincere when he quietly said, "Sucks to be you, mate."

Harry looked around. If he was to drown, he was not going alone. He would take others with him. He beckoned Neville up to join the trio. Harry leaned over and quietly asked Neville who else did he want from the DA to join them. Neville quickly gestured at Ernie MacMillan, Seamus Finnegan, Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley to join the group.

Harry looked at his now eight strong group and with a small smirk inquired, "Ready?"

Ron was looking proud, Hermione was blank faced. Neville looked resigned and Luna carried a small secretive grin. Ernie, Seamus and Ginny looked nervous, but were working hard to hide their nerves from the crowd.

"Well, Neville," said Harry. "As you became the leader of Dumbledore's Army when it turned into an army and became more than just some students practicing spells, I believe the honour is yours." At that Harry bowed to Neville, and as he straightened swept his right arm towards the doorway.

Neville froze for a moment, and then with a glare promising retribution towards Harry, he stepped forward and the lead group followed by the rest of the DA followed him through the opened doors.

The group entered the hall and immediately could see some of the changes wrought by the Lost Year and The Battle. Most notable was the addition of a fifth table to the usual four house tables. This was the smaller Eighth Year table. Harry knew from Hermione's talks with McGonagall that the space not filled by the smaller table was left open in case Ginny's prediction came true that a Veterans table would be needed.

Hermione suddenly gasped in surprise. Following her wide eyes, many of the entering students realized that the enchanted ceiling was no longer functioning. The high vaulted ceiling with its soaring support arches was visible for the first time in oldest student's memories.

Next it was Ron who gasped. "Blimey, where's Dumbledore's throne?" Indeed, the grandiose, golden throne-like chair was gone. Headmistress McGonagall was sitting on a barely raised, only slightly larger chair, than the rest of the staff on their dining dais.

The staring group had stopped walking and now the rest of the students were piling up in a mob in the doorway. "Oi! A little less staring and a little more puttin' yer bottoms on a bench," yelled an anonymous voice from the back. That galvanized the DA, and everyone else, into finding a place on their house benches to sit and await the Sorting.

As soon as the last student sat, bread, rolls, butter, jam and pitchers of pumpkin juice appeared on the tables. This departure from normal tradition had the students in a buzz that quieted as Headmistress McGonagall stood and tapped a silvered rod with her wand. Many DA members thought that was a better way to attract attention rather than a noise maker or light spell. The fighters from last year tended to react badly to surprise, loud noises and bright lights.

"For those of you who may not know, we have a large number of regular first year and older, first-time students to be sorted tonight. It will take longer to sort the new students than usual. I see no reason to starve during the sorting."

She continued on. "Those older students here tonight will note we have a large number of new professors here tonight that will be introduced after the feast.

Harry had barely processed her words when the great doors opened again and a crowd of new firsties and whatever the older newcomers were to be called, led by Professor Vector, entered. The four legged stool was produced, the now thoroughly battered and burnt sorting hat appeared and with Vector reading, "Anson, Donald," the sorting started.

"Hmm," thought Hermione. "No song. That's a first." She continued looking around the hall as the sorting continued. Slytherin house was now so small and young, they looked lost. Hermione knew from McGonagall that there were only three fifth years at that table, and only one sixth year student, Greengrass' sister, Astoria.

The reasons were simple. The three fifth years had been out of the country during Voldemorts reign. Sent away by their families to keep them from getting killed by either side, the effort seemed to have worked. They were here, alive, and no one seemed to have a personal vendetta against any of them.

The older, PureBlood Slytherin students had mostly joined the blood supremists, and had been branded like the cattle they were. And, in Hermione's opinion, clutching their left forearms, they deservedly died in agony at Riddle's death. The other missing had been willing torturers and would probably die`accidently' within a week if they returned to the halls of the castle. They would be`educated elsewhere' until they passed their NEWT tests or their parents ran out of money to pay tutors.

The Slytherin's also looked scared. The dark scowls and not-so-whispered epithets and threats directed at the table from the other house tables sounded real. If something was not done soon, fresh blood would be spilled in the hallways of Hogwarts.

"Well," she thought. "We figured this was going to happen." Now they would have to work their plan to keep that from happening.

That evening, every student in the Great Hall thanked their ancestors that the Headmistress had blessed them with snacks to quell their hunger as the sorting ceremony was the longest in memory due to all the twelve year old out-of-hiding first years in the sorting. There were sixty-three new Hogwarts students. Fifty-eight were sorted almost equally into Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Only five scared looking children were added to Slytherin.

As the last of the children were sorted, Zalinski, Audra, Hufflepuff, the food appeared on the tables and the Great Hall echoed to voices raised as requests to pass food platters and questions on how the summer holiday was spent. As feast wore down, everyone was tiredly eager to head to their common rooms.

The Headmistress rose to her feet soon after the desserts appeared.

"I see everyone looks eager to start their new school term tomorrow. As we have been here overlong tonight, I will give a shortened version of the welcoming speech." A smattering of approving applause came from the students.

She continued, "As the older students can see, we have many new professors with us tonight. Not only new teachers but new classes will start tomorrow. Please welcome Professor Walbridge, on loan to us from the DMLE to be our Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor."

Polite clapping filled the Hall. "His assistant for the year will be our own Harry Potter." After a stunned moment, wild applause and cheering erupted. A blushing, suddenly nervous Harry was gestured at to stand, and the cheering redoubled.

Taking a drink from her teacup, she continued, "Also welcome our new Mundane Studies instructor Professor Albrite. She will be assisted by Assistant Professor Hermione Granger who will teach the first and second years of this new class. We have come to believe the term Muggle has centuries of prejudice and dislike attached to it, and in this school, from now on the official term for a non-magical is a Mundane. This new class will become the replacement for Muggle Studies. We have come to believe the term Muggle has centuries of prejudice and dislike attached to it, and in this school, from now on the official term for a non-magical is a Mundane."

She glared about the dining hall.

"I strongly suggest you start using the term immediately."

The last statement led to a lot of raised eyebrows and whispering that echoed around the hall.

"In conjunction with Professor Granger, Madam Tonks and Madam Black, of the House of Black, will be teaching Introduction to Wizard Culture for those students either Mundane born or Mundane raised who have had little contact with the wizarding world before receiving their Hogwarts letters."

"Either one class or the other is mandatory for all First and Second year students."

More traded looks and more whispering shot around the hall.

The Headmistress again called for quiet and proceeded to introduce the new, History of Magic, Potions, and Transfigeration professors. Taking another sip from her teacup, she continued. "We have two other assistant professors for classes this year." A susurrus of speculation followed that announcement. "Mr. Neville Longbottom has consented to teach an advanced beyond NEWT level Herbology class. And last, but certainly not least, Mr. Ronald Weasley, the creator of the new Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch, will be teaching Broom Flying and will referee the House Quidditch matches."

Hermione had managed to keep her composure at her announcement, but Neville and Ron had blushed like ripe tomatoes. Ron in particular seemed torn between looking bold and cocky or scared witless by the cheering students whose volume nearly matched that noise for Harry.

An older Harry Potter looked at his friend and thought, "I remember the Mirror of Erised. You always wanted fame and adulation, Ronald me lad. Let's see how you handle it."

McGonagall continued speaking. "All students should note the absence of Professor Trelawny and Caretaker Filch. Both have retired and will not be replaced. The new list of forbidden items will be posted next to the doors of the Great Hall." That remark brought some huge grins and whispers of all the prank stuff they would now be able to sneak into the school.

The sounds were cut off by the Headmistress continuing. "Instead of Mr. Filch, teachers will now be inspecting any purchases made on Hogsmeade weekends." That brought groans from many students.

"Very well. Without further ado let's . ."

"Headmistress" said Harry, standing up from the Eighth Year table. "May I have a word with the students before they are dismissed to their common rooms?"

McGonagall was surprised by the request, and showed it. She stared at Harry, and he unblinkingly looked straight back at her. She had no idea what the young man wanted. He looked calm and composed, but McGonagall had learned that a calm, composed Harry Potter usually meant that something he had planned had finally come to fruition. He and his friends had so completely turned the wizarding world on its head in the last four months that she had no idea what to expect from his surprise request. For the good of her nerves, she wanted to turn down his request. Unfortunately, for that easy solution, the look in his hard green eyes that stared back, told her well-honed instincts that Harry was not going to take "No" for an answer.

"Certainly you may, Lord Potter," she replied, succeeding in not showing her trepidation in her voice. Harry bowed and strolled into the open space at the end of the Eights table. With every eye watching Harry, few noticed that eight members of the DA rose and ghosted along the walls until a pair had all four house tables within easy range of the wands carefully concealed in sleeves or under robes.

Harry did not speak very loudly. In fact the Hall became deathly quiet in order to hear him.

"Tonight, as we gathered here for the Sorting Feast, I heard many of the intimidations, the abuse, the threats hissed and whispered to the Slytherin's as they went to their table. This behavior, as of now, is no longer acceptable in this school."

As soon as Harry stopped the whispering restarted and soon escalated.

As though it was scripted, a fourth year Gryffindor boy leapt to his feet.

"But Sir! They're evil snakes! They are all murderers and torturers! They should be whipped and cursed and driven from the school.! That House of Snakes should be scourged with fire and walled up with them in it, never to see the light of day! Ever!"

By the end of the rant, more than a dozen other students were on their feet, screaming abuse at the Slytherin table. Harry raised both arms and spoke loudly, "Quiet."

The Hall mostly fell silent except for two hysterically screaming voices from a Hufflepuff boy and a female Gryffindor who looked to be a fourth year. Harry gestured with his left hand and distinctly said " _Silencio"_ and the yelling abruptly cut off.

"Okay. I understand you do not like Slytherin's," Harry said calmly. "Let's try something else.

Would all the students who were just sorted please stand."

The just sorted youngsters shuffled to their feet.

Harry consulted a piece of parchment in his hand.

"Miss D'Avignon, would you take your new Hufflepuffs to your common room and get them settled please?"

"Miss Davis, I know you are not a prefect, but would you please escort the newest members of Slytherin to their common room please? I believe you know what to tell them."

"Mr. Michelson, Your new Ravenclaws need you to explain their new home to them."

"And Miss Sommerset, the new lions need a lioness to introduce them to the Gryffindor common room. Would you please?"

Harry waited as Tracey and the prefects gathered their charges and led them through the door that then closed behind them.

Harry turned back to the whispering students. "Would every student who _did not_ attend Hogwarts last year because your parents had enough warning to keep you away from this place please rise and stand over by the door." Six Gryffindor's, five Ravenclaw's, seven Hufflepuff's and five Slytherin's stood and walked over to cluster by the door. The students ranged in age from eighth year mugg . . . mundane born like Justin Fletch-Finchley to a tiny for her age second year Slytherin girl.

Once again Harry raised his hand for silence.

"Would every one of you who were tortured last year, please stand."

Every remaining student at the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Eighth Year tables stood up. Some jumped up and others slowly stood, but every one stood.

Every student standing was glaring daggers at the Slytherin table. Suddenly a third year Slytherin stood up. She was staring at her hands on the table, and they were all that was holding her shaking body upright. Astoria Greengrass stood, and suddenly, unexpectedly, all the returned Slytherin's were standing. Most were also looking down at the table but a few were defiantly staring back at the other house tables.

At that point, the two remaining ex-Slytherin eighth years, Greengrass and Bulstrode, walked over to the Slytherin dining table and stood with their ex-housemates.

"They're lying!" shouted the fourth year Gryffindor boy.

At that point, the Ice Queen of Slytherin made her appearance. She glided around the end of the Slytherin table in her elegant robes and in silence made her way until she was standing in front of the raging Gryffindor boy.

"May I have your name please?" she politely asked.

The boy just glared at her.

"Name?" she snapped.

"Uh, Robert Sherwood."

"Mister Sherwood, look over at the Slytherin table and tell Lord Potter and myself, who standing there tortured you?"

Sherwood's eyes switched from staring at her to staring at the Slytherin students, then back to her, then back to the Slytherins. The silence grew.

Daphne spoke again, this time her voice soft with sympathy. "Can you tell us who did torture you since it was no one who is standing at that table?"

Hesitantly and softly Sherwood started talking. "The Carrows, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Stolanar, and some others whose names I can't remember."

Suddenly the Gryffindor sixth year prefect, Nichols, spoke up. "The other names were Ardenshythe, Duggin, Marden, Flint, Forsythe, Lansforth, Rosier and Runcorn.

Harry gave an obvious questioning look at Nichols.

"We, uh . . . started keeping lists of who tortured whom. We were going to make sure to kill the bast . . . um, uh, . . . willing torturers if it looked like things were going to go . . badly."

That got a nod from Harry.

Nichols kept talking. "You might want to be a bit more careful with the four older Slytherins. All of them _Crucio'd_ other girls when told to by the Carrows."

Harry looked at Daphne with a side glance at Bulstrode. Harry knew that the Carrows had always made sure that when the girls were to be `disciplined', it would be by another female.

Any male torturing a PureBlood female would have been assassinated within a week of her family finding out.

During one of the Snuggle Witch sessions, Daphne had told Harry what had happened and Tracey, when asked, had told him to ask Weasley, Patil or Bones about the deal made with the upper year Halfbloods and Bloodtraitors. A quiet question on the express had given Harry Fencroft's name also.

With a nod he raised his voice. "Head Girl Fencroft, would you tell our assembly here about the deal made with the four oldest ex-Slytherin students who have returned to school?"

The Head Girl stood from her seat at the Ravenclaw table.

"The deal was simple. In return for us writhing and screaming as if we were under a powerful _Cruciatus_ curse, the Greengrass sisters, Davis and Bulstrode would put so little effort into the curse, we girls hardly felt anything." (1)

She paused. "Oh, sometimes we used some old Weasley Puking Pastile's or Nose Bleed Nougats to get some vomit or blood flying. That would really get the Carrow's excited."

"Thank You Head Girl Fencroft" Harry said as the Head Girl sat back down.

Harry stood and slowly, deliberately, looked around the Hall.

"I have spent six years at this school. I have seen duels in the halls using killing spells. I have seen Quidditch players attacked by opposing houses before games. I have heard the words Mudblood and Bloodtraitor shouted as a curse by students at other students."

"As the Headmistress said, there will be no more of that within these halls."

"All of you. Look around at everyone else in this Hall. There are men and women standing here who fought Death Eaters so that you could walk through the halls of this school without fear of getting tortured in a classroom or hexed in the back walking a hall because someone does not like the colour of your tie or the trim on the robe you are wearing."

He shook his head, "There will be no more of that in these halls"

Harry's wand suddenly appeared in his hand. With a wave the torches and candles all dimmed.

"Everyone here take your wand out." Harry paused a moment. "Now everyone here who had a family member, or a parent or grandparent or an uncle or aunt killed by the Death Eaters, light your wands with a _Lumos."_

There was some quiet sobbing in the shadows, but almost every wand tip lit.

Harry looked around for a moment, his heart aching at the loss those wand tips represented.

"Look at the Slytherin table. Every wand is lit. Do not assume that whomever you lost were the only victims of Tom Riddle, the Halfblood known as Voldemort." Half the room gasped as Harry said the word Voldemort.

"The Ministry does not have the final figures yet, but it seems that Riddle and his Death Eaters killed more PureBloods than the Aurors, the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army combined."

"For those who stay after dinner tomorrow, I will tell you the story of Tom Riddle, the Halfblood who fooled everyone into believing he was a Lord."

"Now," he continued. "I'm sure as Headmistress McGonagall said, everyone is tired and anxious to get to their common rooms. I, for one have had a tiring day. I am looking forward to my nice comfortable Hogwarts bed."

"Tonight is the beginning. A new beginning for Hogwarts."

And with those words, Harry looked at the seriously displeased Headmistress who was glaring at him. He gave her a half bow then turned to follow the other eighth years as they joined the throng of students leaving the Great Hall. It seemed like old times as Hermione and Ron strode up to flank him on either side as the trio walked to the Grand Staircase to climb up to the third floor.

Hermione broke the silence as she quietly said, "Harry, why are we heading to the eighth year dormitory? You know Headmistress McGonagall is going to call us to her office. She looked very, very unhappy at what you did."

Harry just smirked back at her.

"We have to go up a couple of floors to get to her office anyway. We are just cutting down our response time."

Harry then proceeded to look around the hallway.

"Oi, Neville," he shouted across the mass of students headed for their common rooms.

Neville looked in Harrys' direction, who then raised his arm and waved him to come over.

As Neville approached, Harry slung his arm around the taller man's shoulders and grinned up at him as the four young adults started climbing the stairways.

"You didn't possibly think you were going to miss out on the wrath of the Headmistress after my small speech tonight, did you?"

Neville just rolled his eyes. "Bugger all Harry. You know I like the quiet, unassuming life. I am not like these two daft idiots who keep following you into mortal danger. You know when we get to her office, it will be the fourth time someone, or something, has tried to kill me because I was following you?"

The Trio just looked at Neville. Yep, he really had changed.

At the moment their feet touched the fourth floor, a silvery tabby cat whooshed up to them and opened its mouth.

"Professor Potter! My office! Now!"

Harry smirked as the other three paled.

"Come Porthos, come Aramis, come young D'Artagnan. The Headmistress has called for our presence."

At Harry's words, Hermione snorted, Ron and Neville each stared at the pair looking clueless.

Harry started off towards McGonagall's office, the other three falling in behind him. They walked until they came to a statue of a cat sitting upright and tall at the foot of the circular staircase that led up to the Headmistress' office. The cat was not blocking the stairs, so after trading looks with each other they started up the still immobile circular staircase to the office.

As Harry got his first look at Headmistress McGonagall as he opened the door into her office. She was standing behind her desk, back as straight as an iron poker, narrowed eyes, lips almost disappearing they were stretched so tight.

This was definitely a level nine, leeked off McGonagall.

"Harry, there are no chairs," whispered Hermione in his ear.

"Hmmm," thought Harry. "Make that a level ten upset McGonagall."

McGonagall stood for an entire minute, glaring at the foursome in front of her. And the foursome stared stonily back. The silence stretched out. Two minutes, and the tension ratcheted higher. Three minutes.

McGonagall was dumbfounded. She had been positive someone would break. Weasley, or the surprise addition, Longbottom, should surely have cracked by now. Potter was not nervously ruffling his hand through his hair, Longbottom did not look as if he was going to have a nervous collapse, Weasley was not shifting his eyes anywhere but at her and Granger's return glare was hardening by the moment. What was left in her arsenal of discipline if intimidation would not work?

With something between a snort and a huff she suddenly raised her wand and conjured four flowery print chintz covered arm chairs before her desk.

"Sit."

Without speaking, the four broke eye contact with McGonagall to make sure their bums would land in a chair before sitting and quietly continued to stare at the Headmistress.

Ten seconds, twenty seconds.

Then, "What did the four of you think you were doing down there? And do not bother denying it was all planned out. My eyes may be getting older but they could still see that several members of Dumbledore's Army had all the angles covered in case spells started flying."

Her glare shifted to Harry exclusively. "I am severely disappointed in you, Professor Potter.

You deliberately hijacked MY role in the discipline and order of this school. YOU told the assembled students that discipline and order would be done your way or else. Not the professor's way, not the Hogwarts way, YOUR way!"

"Prof . . Headmistress," came the incisive voice of Hermione from Harrys left side. "You of all people should know how much Harry hates using his fame. Do you honestly believe Harry wanted to do what he did down there in the Great Hall? Were you not listening to the threats and menace directed at the Slytherin table as we walked into the Hall?"

"Pish posh, Miss Granger," retorted McGonagall. "The words and tone may have been a little stronger than usual, but I am sure it was just the normal house rivalries flaring up before they settle back as the school year progresses."

"Wrong!" The other three almost jumped off their chairs as the man to Harry's right forcefully spoke up. "If Harry had not spoken as he did and defused the situation, the house elves would have been cleaning blood off the hallway walls tonight."

McGonagall was looking at Neville Longbottom as though he had sprouted a third head.

"Headmistress," he continued. "Have you talked to Minister Shacklebolt during the summer?

At her nod he asked, "How many times did you speak with him? And how often did he talk to you about the Slytherin's who were not coming back to Hogwarts this year?"

She peered over her glasses severely. "Well, he did mention that some of the parents thought their children might be in danger from others this year. I completely assured him that everything would return to normal at the school this year. We would get the repairs done and classes would resume as ever. Strangely, I had to reassure him of that twice."

The four younger adults all looked at each other after this pronouncement. Harry muttered just loud enough for them all to hear, but only two of the three understood his meaning when he said, "Just like first year."

"Now Professor Longbottom, kindly explain to me why you think that Lord Potter saved our halls from being awash in blood?"

Neville paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "Headmistress, what do you remember about that fourth year, Sherwood who was upset tonight?"

McGonagall looked thoughtful as she consulted her memories. She realized that she knew very little about the youngster. She was mentally chastising herself for not having more information in her memories about him.

"Well, he was a third year Gryffindor last year. I recall that he was badly injured trying to protect a young Hufflepuff and it took Madam Pomfrey over a week to heal him."

Neville had a look of disbelief on his face. "That is all you remember about one of your house members? That's it? You were his Head of House!" Neville's voice volume was rising rapidly. "That little Hufflepuff he nearly died trying to save was his little sister! She was injured so badly that Poppy had to send her to St. Mungo's!"

McGonagall was in shock. She had known nothing of this. She started to say something, anything to placated young Longbottom, but he was having none of it.

Neville kept talking, rolling over McGonagall's weak defense like a golem trampling anthills.

"You know what happened next? St. Mungo's sent her to her parents half healed. When Sherwood's parents begged for the hospital to keep her, to heal her, they were told by an administrator, orders were Halfbloods and Mudbloods were to only receive the minimum care needed! There was no reason to waste precious resources on magical inferiors!"

By now Neville was yelling at the Headmistress.

"And that useless sack of human waste made damn sure he was flaunting Slytherin colors on his robes when he told the parents! His parents have managed to get her back to St. Mungo's over the summer, but the healers think she will never be completely cured."

Neville collapsed into his chair and almost pleaded with McGonagall for understanding.

"Sherwood doesn't want justice. He wants revenge. Hot, red mist filling his vision, revenge."

"You tell me, how was your little speech after the feast going to stop that?"

Four pairs of eyes drilled into the Headmistress. She felt as though she was in front of a jury.

And that jury was deciding her fate. That was not going to happen. A jury was supposed to be of her peers. And these four young school children were not her peers.

She had just completed that thought when she had an instant epiphany. The four warriors sitting in front of her probably had no peers in the English wizarding world. And they were four whom the mass of the wizarding world had mostly ignored or jeered at for years. The only thing keeping them from tearing that world apart and watching it burn was that they were innately good people.

McGonagall was starting to feel that much was happening out in the world that she had allowed to slip past her as she concentrated on getting the school repaired and ready to open.

Her thoughts flashed back to Kingsley Shacklebolt's face when she so confidently rushed over the reservations he was trying to pass on to her about the returning students. And that thought led to how obvious it was that Lord Longbottom of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Longbottom, had been co-opted by the Minister to keep Hogwarts from flying off the vault cart rails.

"Very well," she stated calmly. "We shall see how your words will affect the situation you think is brewing. You are dismissed."

The four stood and started to file through the door.

Hermione was last and she turned just as she was about to step out and flatly said, "There will be actions taken also. Do not be surprised."

War changes everything. Sometimes even unquestioned admiration for people.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

"Quidditch forever."

With the password given to a portrait of a purported great granddaughter of Helga Hufflepuff, a door swung open and the foursome stepped into the Eighth Years common room. A quick head count assured Hermione that all the Eight's were there, the Head Boy and Girl as requested by Harry, and Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood had somehow wormed their way in also.

The half that had been involved in the building of their dormitory had been giving tours to the other returnees. After the excitement of that ebbed, they had been sitting and standing around the room killing time as word had been passed that the Heads of House wanted a short meeting.

"Cor, Harry. We hope you're our new Head of House 'cause a buncha us would like to go to bed," came the voice of Seamus Finnegan. "Some of the 'Claws been saying you and Hermione were our Heads.

"You are in luck Seamus," replied Harry. "Because we are, and we are here. Apparently McGonagall figured Hermione and I were the only professors who could put up with you lot without hexing you into next week this week. We will go over all that tomorrow night. Half past seven, after dinner, here. Miss out and I'll have Professor Granger set you lines as punishment."

He went on, "And now, my lovely and loquacious Co-Head of House, Professor Granger wants to say a few words."

Harry grinned at Hermione's death glare.

Hermione stepped forward and somewhat nervously, started.

"I'll start with the obvious. We are the students who returned to this school to finish our education. We want to receive our NEWT's because in our world, NEWT's are the measure of your education. Some of us have really bad memories of what happened last year. Both during the year and from The Battle. Others were smart enough, or lucky enough to not have been here last year." Looking right at the young man as she spoke, she continued, "That's right Justin. If you had been here last year, you would have been in a Muggleborn Re-education Camp and I would wager a pile of galleons you would have been dead by Christmas."

Fletch-Finchley paled. That had been the bluntest assessment of what could have happened to him he had heard.

She looked around at the crowd. "So, the first one of you who gets stroppy and demands `Where were you?' last year `while we were being beaten, whipped and crucio'd', had better remember, the person you are berating probably would have died if they had ridden the Express north with you." Silence, but a lot of looks around greeted that statement.

"Second," she continued. "The three ex-Slytherin's we have as dorm mates." At that all eyes turned on Greengrass, Davis and Bulstrode. "They all fought on our side during The Battle. If you get in their face about how all Slytherin's are Death Eaters, and they hex you stupid with oozing purple skin, you have been warned."

"Third, I have seen enough blood spilled in the halls and corridors to last me a lifetime. Most of us heard the threats against the Slytherin house at the feast. To the best of Minister Shacklebolt's and McGonagall's knowledge, none of the current Slytherin's were willing torturers for the Carrows. With our three here no longer Slytherins, Astoria Greengrass is the only student above fifth year to return from last year. The rest either died from Voldemort's Mark, were arrested and imprisoned by the DMLE or have decided to continue their education elsewhere. The three fifth years we have in Slytherin were out of the country last year"

"Are there any questions?"

It was almost too much to process for the others. Almost no one could believe that the rotten bastard PureBloods of Slytherin, whom had made life so miserable for the three other houses for so many years, were actually gone.

"Alright," she continued. "We need some volunteers to pull bodyguard duty for tomorrow morning."

"Greengrass, Davis, Bulstrode. You are three of the volunteers. Fletch-Finchley, Patil and Turpin. Would you three also volunteer for at least the first shift? We would like to provide escort for the first three years of Slytherin's between classes. The prefects are going to have their hands full just performing their usual duties."

She took a look at the six she had named. "Look, the theory is simple. If we can keep the idiots from cursing the Slytherin's into little pieces for the first few days, we might keep the revenge minded from doing something that will get them expelled or get their wands snapped."

She tried to encompass everyone with her eyes.

"Trust me. The Ministry believes it has rooted out all the `bad' Slytherin's and is looking for an excuse to make an example of _anyone_ breaking the peace right now. The auror's will not care if the first curse is thrown by a Slytherin Death Eater wannabe, or a snake hating Gryffindor."

"The days of every incident, duel or fight being ignored by Snape or covered up by Dumbledore are gone."

"Spread the word."

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The other common rooms settled into the long cherished patterns of the first night at Hogwarts. After the short welcome talk by the prefects, the newest students were sent to bed, the prefects met and divvied up the first two days of leading the `icky firsties' to meals and classes and even the older students only wanted to have a short catch up with their friends and then collapse into bed.

There were exceptions to the early to bed rush.

Many of the Sixth and Seventh year veterans had not quite settled yet. The whole school `normalcy' thing everyone else was striving for as though last year had not occurred, was jarring to their senses. They might not keep in touch over the summer holidays, but meeting up again on the Express and after the feast with dorm mates had become a habit. The new sixth and seventh year veterans were now _really_ noticing the missing. For four or five years they and their year-mates had slept in the same room, worked on the same homework assignments, played games in the common room and often sat with each other for meals. Last year, they were the least experienced fighters, and the brutal calculus of war was that the inexperienced soldiers usually died first. And being the youngest last spring, they had had the smallest skill sets.

As they looked around the common rooms, they made mental totals as to who was missing from their year. Others quietly asked if anyone knew what had happened to the missing. As each common room truly realized how many lives had been ripped from them, the silences became longer as more and more they stared into the fireplaces or into empty space.

 **A/N**

 **One – Not my original idea. Maybe from Six Pomegranate Seeds by Seselt?**

 **Now there's a story I wish I had the imagination and talent to write.**

 **Violating several rules of grammar, I have been using the following deliberately.**

 **PureBlood, Halfblood and Mudblood. It is just the way I perceive the culture.**

 **And the superior PureBloods get two capitals deliberately.**

 **(Face palm) Didn't think about the fact that few people outside of the USA**

 **eat turkey. I was after the effect the tryptophan in turkey has. Makes one sleepy.**

 **(Chapter 11)**

 **Being an inexperienced writer, I am still surprised at how a chapter can flow.**

 **Last chapter was an easy write. Most of it just flowed to another part.**

 **This chapter growled and snarled and snapped at me the whole way**

 **as I tried to drag it from my brain into the light.**

 **But the effects of the Carrows reign on the ordinary students the next**

 **year is something I have never read about. Our `Heroes' have been written**

 **about extensively. What of the `ordinary people' who just got run over by events?**


	16. Chapter 16 The Morning After

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 16

All rights to the known characters belong to RK Rowling and/or corporations

that own the rights.

I will receive no compensation for this exercise in word crafting.

The Morning After

Tuesday Morning, September 8, 1998

There have been many descriptions of how dawn arrives. Sometimes it roars into life with flashing brilliance. Sometimes it creeps quietly along, revealing itself softly and shyly.

And sometimes it arrives as a savior against the long, terrible night.

This was one such time.

It had been a brutal night for many of the castles students.

First year students and their home sickness were nothing new to Hogwarts. What was new were the second and third year students who woke up screaming from nightmares or crying as they waited for the Carrow twins and the older Slytherins to order everybody down to the common room for "extra training." That always involved being told to curse your housemates. And if you did not do the curse to the "trainers" satisfaction, then you became the target of the practice for the trainers. This returning fear had resulted in the prefects being woken up and told they were needed in the younger year dormitories constantly throughout the night. The staff was not exempt from the nighttime chaos. For when the prefects became overwhelmed, being only teenagers themselves, they called for adults.

Fourth year and above did not ruin the prefects sleep as much. They had become used to casting silencing charms around their beds as a matter of necessity from last year. Between the nightmares and Madam Pomfrey running out of potions and salves to relieve pain, it had become a matter of honor not to wake up your dorm mates. Odds were they were just as bad off as you.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The Great Hall started filling earlier than usual that Tuesday morning. Besides the normal school uniform, dark circles around hollow eyes and huge jaw cracking yawns seemed to be in style for over half the upper years. The new physical traits were more prevalent in the middle years. Only the firsties seemed to have the normal ratio of sleep deprived to sleep satisfied students.

Headmistress McGonagall and her staff had been seated at the head table since the Great Hall opened. Her spine may have been ramrod straight, but her face held an aura of exhaustion. And the staff looked no better since as the Heads of House had been quickly overwhelmed with panicked Prefect requests for help, they in turn, had awakened every other professor for more needed help. Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall had naturally been called as events had almost spiraled out of control. Pomfrey had used up her supply of Calming Draughts and was into using Draughts of Peace. McGonagall had swallowed her pride enough send a patronus message to Harry and Hermione for help when a dozen or so nightmare addled Gryffindors were hell-bent on attacking the Slytherin common room to show the snakes how _real_ `training' was done. That they had no idea where to find the Slytherin dormitory was irrelevant to them.

Harry and Hermione had made a quick trip into the eighth year dormitory. Neville and Ron had been dragooned into helping in the Gryffindor tower. Neville face was known and he was a hero to all Gryffindors. He would get their attention.

Greengrass, Davis and Bulstrode had been asked, politely, to check on the Slytherin house. From a house elf delivered message, someone had attacked them in the lower halls with a _Reducto_ curse that had missed them. The house elf had given a scribbled note to Harry from the `Scary Golden Mistress' that had told him the young ones had awakened from a combination of nightmares. Most were from being hexed and cursed by the Carrows and older Slytherins from last year. The remainder woke from fear that the rest of the houses were going to continue to hex and curse this year. Being a theoretically privileged Slytherin last year did not keep members from other houses from retaliating against whomever they could without getting caught. Early in the year, many retaliators had been caught, and brutally punished. Later on, the attackers had become so stealthy, they had rarely been caught.

Slytherin house appeared _en masse_ from their dormitory for breakfast just before seven o'clock. They had an obvious guard of four very upset witches who looked ready to hex everyone and everything in sight. Their mood did not improve after leaving their charges and sitting at the Eights table. Harry understood. Getting ambushed with curses from the dark will piss off just about everyone. In fact, he was so intimidated, he did not even dare to say "Good morning" for fear of being hexed into a tentacled mushroom. The mushroom part now made sense to Harry. Hermione had let him in on the mugg . . mundane joke of what a mushroom was last year.

Harry believed it fit his last seventeen years like an acromantula silk glove.

The groups of prefect led first years were right on the Slytherin's tail. The kids looked excited. The prefects looked exhausted.

The noise in the Hall gradually increased as more students arrived. At quarter of eight, several students went up to their Head of House to get their class schedules, obviously trying to get an early start on classes. Their timetables were handed to them, but the students then proceeded to slowly and with looks of confusion return to their seats.

Headmistress McGonagall rose from her seat and with a wand wave closed the doors to the hall. That brought immediate attention from the assembled students.

"For the older students whom are curious, we will be handing out your timetables shortly. You will remain here in the Hall until granted permission to leave. All eight o'clock classes today are canceled." As with any change to routine, that comment drew a flurry of whispers between neighbors. "First, the Ministry will have Mind Healers in the school on Friday. Students deemed needing help with adjusting back to a normal school routine will be given a time and place for meeting with them."

She paused. "Professor Potter, you have told me you want to make the next announcement."

The shocked whispering ceased as Harry rose from his seat at the Eighth Year table.

"Thank you Headmistress. Last night, while on their way to aid some students that had the same problems we all experienced last night, a trio of fellow students were ambushed by a coward who tried to assassinate them from the dark. For everyone's information, the aurors were called to investigate. They now have trace evidence that will be used to expel, snap the wand and bind the magic of whomever the assassin was."

Harry stopped to glare around the Hall. "Whomever it was that sent that curse, the aurors will find you. And when that happens, you will be expelled within a week. The toothless threats of detentions and points loss from years gone by are done."

Harry went to sit down, but stopped. "Do you want me to make that statement a threat or a promise?" he asked the stunned Hall.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The owl post arrived just then with forgotten clothes and supplies for students. The Daily Prophet had a large picture on the front page of Harry and Hermione without a seeming care in the world, laughing as they jogged to catch the Hogwarts Express.

The headline caption was "Golden Trio Returns to Hogwarts."

After giving her time to read the article, Harry and Ron leaned over Hermione to see the paper.

"Well, the Prophet has started out on an almost factual note," Said Harry.

"That will last until the word on last nights _Reducto_ firing idiot gets out. Rita is going to hyperventilate when she finds out," she replied

"Situation normal. By the second day of classes, un-named sources will have told the Prophet that open warfare has broken out in the halls of Hogwarts," Hermione continued.

"Yeah, well if it's a real normal start the Quibbler will inform us that it was a _Revelo_ spell for camouflaged Crumple-Horned Snorkacks," was Ron's contribution.

As the class timetables were handed out, it turned out the NEWT classes were all packed into a six hour day with an hour for lunch. Nevilles Herbology class starting after four("Trust me, you will really want a shower afterwards!") and Astronomy were the sole exceptions. The classes were an hour each and only fifteen minutes to get to the next class. Harry personally had an easy NEWT schedule. Having tested out of NEWT DADA, Transfiguration and Charms, he was taking a Masters class in Enchanting, Monday and Wednesday, two hour block in the morning. Potions on Tuesdays and Thursdays and Business Planning and Estate Management Monday afternoon, double class, and Thursday afternoon. The last class was added at Harrys' insistence just before term started. McGonagall had initially refused due to lack of money. The class was added when Harry told her he would pay for this years instructor. Harry believed it would be money well spent. He was tired of relying on Hermione, the Black sisters and the goblins for translations for what his empire was doing and/or what he wanted it to do. Merely spending what felt like other people's money was easy, but Harry was feeling guilty about it.

His Assistant Professor DADA classes were a Tuesday afternoon double practical and a single theoretical on Friday for the second years, and a double class for fifth years practical early Friday afternoon so that Harry believed he would not be overwhelmed by having ten class hours and five teaching hours per week.

Harry, deep in his musings, had not noticed the doors opening.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione said poking him on the arm. "We have a free hour before Potions starts for you. Let's get your books and supplies. I need my Advanced Runic Structures books for later." As they walked they talked about their classes to come and it was nice to find that while Hermione had placed out of Potions and was taking Advanced Runic Structures and Spell Creation Arithmancy instead, they had Enchanting and Estate Management together.

They both lamented that McGonagall could find neither the money nor a Master to teach Alchemy. Harry was lamenting about it but with his teaching hours, he figured he would have burnt out like Hermione in third year. As a matter of fact Harry found it ironic that with having tested out of all the standard NEWT classes, Hermione was limited to the few post-NEWT classes McGonagall had cobbled together on the fly. She had been close to taking Neville's beyond NEWT Herbology class just it was there, and she was here, and she was feeling the lack of structure to her studies.

Apparently after seven month in the tent, Hermione was craving to be a structured classroom student again. It represented normalcy. Harry had strenuously argued that being able to have some non-structure to her studies would allow her to pursue the avenues of study at her own pace. Not cramming them into the left over available time. As part of his argument he even told her that if she got bored, he would find some dangerous problem that would require her to do scads of research to save him.

With a scandalized look, she had whacked him on the shoulder with her ever present book in hand as he half-heartedly dodged her blow.

Noon was approaching and Harry was finished with his double potions class. Professor Slughorn had started the class off slowly. Double classes were meant for brewing potions. Single hour classes for NEWT students were usually for theory or ingredient identification and harvesting. It was now expected that as NEWT level students they were competent to perform longer, more complicated potion brews. Slughorn had started the class with a review and a pair of simple sixth year potions to "get the hands and minds back in practice." Harry was hard put not to smirk hugely as the book he had rescued from the Room of Lost Things the last day of sixth year term was still useful. Snape may have been the bravest of them all, but Harry was enjoying giving the bastard the metaphorical finger by using his silly titled Half-Blood Prince book. He had been a crap teacher and couldn't even spell Halfblood properly. Arsehole.

Plus, a tiny part of him was grinning that he was putting one over on Hermione who was not there to berate him for `cheating'.

Detouring slightly he managed to get outside the Runes classroom as Professor Babbling dismissed Hermione's class. The two talked as they headed to the Great Hall for a quick lunch. Hermione was going on about rune languages, runes for warding purposes and as a magical power source for just about anything. Harry did not mind her prattle. This was his Hermione in full student mode. Questing for knowledge was her purpose in life and he was happy for her. Besides it kept his mind from dwelling on his afternoon class with the second years. He had just winged it before with the DA. Now it was an official class and. . . .

They entered the Hall and sat next to Ron at the Eight's table.

"Harry," came a voice that broke through his thoughts. "Do you think you can do the 3:30 to 5:00 bodyguard duty on the Slytherin second years? Take them from your class to their common room and then maybe the library?" Harry turned to see Susan Bones holding a clipboard and a pen.

"Yeah, sure. You want me to hang around and take any that go to the library back to the Snake common room just before dinner?"

"Yes, that would be very helpful," she replied.

Harry gestured her to lean in.

"How many disillusioned aurors do we have in the corridors today and tonight?" he asked very quietly.

"Six," she replied just as quietly.

Harry nodded slightly and Susan moved on down the table to Megan Jones to get her into the "volunteer" rotation.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Harry was sitting on his desk watching the second years enter the classroom. This was going to be a first. Harry was to teach all four houses at once. When the Headmistress had first told him that, Harry had a mild panic attack.

"Forty kids? All at the same time?" he had blurted.

"No, Professor Potter," she replied with a sad little smile. "There will only be twenty-three second year students in the entire school. Although, you may get one additional student after Professor Aldridge gives him a test. He is one of our should have been a first year last year students. He was home schooled while hiding last year, apparently by someone who knew what they were doing."

Harry had been in shock after that talk with McGonagall. Even with the small year sizes from the terror days of Tommy's first rise, Harry knew the number of students in each of the years below him had been steadily increasing after his third year. But only twenty-three. That was half the size of the second years from three years ago.

Seeing their teacher already in the classroom, the students were surprisingly quiet as they sat down at the desks automatically sorting themselves by house. Twenty-three sets of eyes barely moved from his form until the ticking clock on his desk dinged, making almost all of them jump. Harry picked up a clipboard and started the role. All twenty-three were there.

"Good Afternoon. I am your instructor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. I am Harry Potter. I will answer to Professor, Professor Potter or Sir." Out of polite habit Harry almost asked `Are there any questions?' Hermione had drilled him relentlessly that he was not to give his students an opening to ask questions. Once they start, she said, they will not stop. You will waste the class period.

"Very well. Stand up along the side wall over there" he pointed.

As soon as the little ones were out of the way, Harry twirled and jabbed his wand, spoke the incantation slowly and clearly, and one after another the desks all moved over against the back wall leaving a large working space in the middle of the room. Harry then picked up his clipboard and walked over to the assembled students.

"Let us see if you actually learned anything last year. When I call your name, step up to here," he pointed. Then I want you to cast the spell I ask for. Understand?" A barrage of wide-eyed head nods answered him.

"Mr. Turpin." A brown haired boy left the wall and stood where Harry had pointed.

"Cast a _Lumos."_

" _Lumos,"_ exclaimed the boy thrusting his wand upwards.

The tip of his wand glowed, casting a faint light.

"Thank you. Return to your mates."

"Miss Stonehill, cast a _Lumos."_

By the end of the first hour the class had worked through eight of the twelve spells taught in first year. At that point he sent them off for a fifteen minute loo break before running them through the last four. Unsurprisingly, very few could cast the last four spells that should have been taught to them. Having your school torn to rubble for the last two months of the school term will cause that, Harry ruminated

With about fifteen minutes left in the class, Harry had a tired group of students sitting at the desks he had set back into their rows. They had been casting or attempting to cast for longer than their magical cores should support. If a student's incantation and wand movement was close to working, Harry spent a moment correcting them. The hopeless or those who had not been taught the spell, he would give them a run through and quietly tell them they would need a lot of practice.

"You all know what spells you had trouble with today. I see no reason to berate you for your performances. Today. However, this means you are going to have to work extra hard in this class to make up for what the incompetents teaching this class last year did not teach you."

"Your homework is," Harry waited while parchment and quills were produced. "write eight inches on the incantation and wand movements for the first year _Petrificus Totalus_ spell and eight inches on the second year _Rictusempra_ spell. This will be due on Thursday. My office hours are posted along side the classroom door."

"I will now allow one, and one question only, from one of you."

Frantic hands shot up into the air. Harry almost snorted. He had a flashback to Hermione in first year bouncing in her seat, trying to always trying to raise her hand higher so as to get noticed by the teachers.

"Miss Smyth?" he said to the bubbly, curly haired blonde in Ravenclaw colours, who was doing such an excellent Hermione imitation, that Harry just had to call on her.

She stood up, her eyes big around.

"Uh, wh . . what spell is the absolute coolest, neatest spell you know," she asked in a rush and sat right back down, her face rapidly flushing to ripe tomato colour.

Harry stood and walked in front of his desk.

"Expecto Patronum," and Prongs pranced again. He was golden now and larger. Harry had no idea why. But positive feelings of happiness radiated throughout the room. Prongs seemed to quickly realize there was no danger present and proceeded to walk almost carefully over to the front row of students. Bending his neck, he seemed to sniff the front eight children one after another. The last in line, a Slytherin named boy named Gerhard Andresson actually reached out to touch the glowing emanation. He yanked his hand back, clearly surprised by what he had felt. Then the boy broke into a smile that practically split his face in two.

Prongs actually seemed to huff and look at Harry. The spirit turned and walked slowly up to Harry and physically nudged him before fading away. Harry blinked and took a moment to recover from his surprise.

"Huh, class dismissed except for the Slytherins."

The other houses had left in a swarm of happy chatter as the Prongs effect stayed with them. Harry told the remaining seven that they had would be leaving for the Slytherin common room in two minutes and after they got there, anyone who wanted to study in the library for two hours would have ten minutes to gather any materials they might need.

At the same time Harry was finding out just how bad the second years were behind, Hermione was about to plumb the true depths of wizarding ignorance of the mundane world.

With trepidation, Assistant Professor Hermione Granger looked out over her class. Dressed in her new dark blue teaching robes, matching coloured ankle boots and with her hair in a tight McGonagall-type bun, this was her very first class as a teacher. Young, almost tiny, nervous First Years. Just like every other professor, she started with the roll, trying very hard to place faces with the names.

"I am Hermione Granger. Here, in front of you, or during office hours, I am Professor Granger, Professor, or Madam. The first item upon todays' agenda is a quiz."

Big eyes and muffled groans followed that statement. With a wave of her wand, Hermione sent a copy of the test to each desk.

"This is not a graded test. It is a method for me to find out if you are passably knowledgeable of, or ignorant of, or vastly ignorant of the _Mundane_ world."

"In the _mundane_ world this is called a True/False test. (1) Notice the words True and False below each sentence. Read the question, and make an Exe mark in that square in front of the word True if you believe the statement is true, or place the Exe in the box in front of the False if you believe the statement is not true."

"You will have twenty minutes to complete the test. Get your quills and ink ready."

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Dinner in the Great Hall was a bit quieter than usual, but then again, Harry had rarely paid any attention to the general noise level during meals unless it was during those times of the Dailey Prophet or Ministry trying to disgrace his name because it sold papers or from fear he was some vicious yet vaguely defined threat to English wizardkind.

Harry, Hermione and the entire eighth year table had efficiently consumed dinner. Except Ron. He had to inhale his normal three helpings because he had been told the dinner might be cut short.

It was shortly after dessert that Headmistress McGonagall stood from her chair and in the silence announced, "There was an incident in the second floor main corridor this afternoon. Insults became shoves, shoves became punches."

She then glared around the room.

"Witness testimony from the aurors that stopped the fight showed that no wands were used. That is very fortunate for the shameful miscreants. They will receive loss of house points and detentions. If anyone had used a spell, they would have been expelled."

Once again, she stopped to glare about the room at real and potential `miscreants.'

"All the new rules on verbal attacks, name calling and physical abuse are posted in all five common rooms. Read them!"

"Ignorance will not be considered an excuse when punishment is handed out."

With a look of profound satisfaction, McGonagall than turned towards the Eights table.

"Professor Potter, I recall you promised a true learning experience for this evening."

She knew her satisfaction at making Harry `perform' in public was petty, but she felt he had truly earned her ire.

Harry stood up and walked to the end of the eighth year table farthest from the Head table and sat on the end of the table, his legs dangling in the air.

Clearing his throat, he started.

"In December 1926 a baby boy was born in a London orphanage. His mother, barely a step above a squib, had been disowned by her father and brother because the baby had a muggle as a father. She told the orphanage staff that the baby's name was Tom Marvolo Riddle, and then she died less than half an hour later."

Harry kept telling the tale of Tom Riddle for the next forty minutes. He told of the young bully who learned to enjoy being feared by the other orphans. A boy who desperately yearned to be special. A boy who when he turned eleven, found that he was indeed special. This eleven year old boy was sorted into Slytherin House, where he learned about blood status overnight. He rapidly set about convinced everyone he was a PureBlood orphaned early in the Grindelwald War and proceeded to become one of the greatest prodigies in magic that the Hogwarts records could remember. How he finished his Fifth year with eight OWL's. All graded with Outstandings.

Harry continued into Tom's sixth year when he was awarded a cup for Special Services to the School. "You can find it in the Trophy Room if you look," for accusing "falsely, I might add," another student for being the one who had released Slytherin's Monster from the Chamber of Secrets into the school, killing a student. Tom had then had to stop setting the Monster on the school because Professor Dumbledore had started keeping a close watch Tom Riddle."

"But, not close enough. The student was not the only person Tom Riddle killed that year. That summer, he sought out his muggle father and killed him and the man's entire family. He then framed his uncle for the killings. The uncle was found guilty, sentenced to Azkaban, and died there within a couple of years."

"How did I learn all this? His evil shade bragged about all his ugly deeds to me just before I managed to destroy it after stabbing Slytherin's Monster to death with the Sword of Gryffindor."

Harry hopped down from his seat on the table, and started for his dinner seat. He suddenly stopped and turned around.

"One last thing that the shade of Tom Marvolo Riddle taught me down in the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry stood and walked into the middle of the Hall and wordlessly swept his wand to create,

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

in flaming letters in front of himself.

Again, wordlessly with his wand and left hand he re-arranged the words into the infamous,

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

The last brought gasps and squeals of surprise and fear from the assemblage.

"I am tired and my throat is sore. I will continue this tomorrow," he finished leaving the burning words hanging in the air.

As he walked out of the Hall, it exploded into a roar of sound behind him.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Harry badly wanted to go and hide in the Head of House suite. However, his years had taught him that his nosey house mates would bother him until he became either angry enough to tell them to sod off, or he stomped off. After all, he knew what was coming. He had brought the attention to himself deliberately. This time.

Back in the eighth year common room, when cornered, he told everyone that most of their questions would be answered tomorrow night and he just did not want to keep telling the tale multiple times. One advantage of having a common room full of older students and veterans of Dumbledore's Army, they mostly understood that there was a time _not_ to press their curiosity.

 **A/N:**

 **This is uploaded a bit early but I am descending into a non wifi area for two weeks.**

 **This chapter stops at an awkward place, but it was go with an 8K+ word**

 **chapter or break it into two chapters of approximately 4K and 4K ea.**

 **I know I have Harry `creatively' playing with the truth of Tom Riddle.**

 **He has had the credo to never mention the word horcrux drummed into him** **for years. He is also going to try to slide over the Elder Wand part of the story.**

 **One - In the US, true/false tests are common. Never saw one in the HP books.**


	17. Chapter 17

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 17

Usual disclaimer, all rights to JK Rowling,

I make no money, etc.

You know the drill.

There was, of course, more than one morning after.

 **For those who loyally keep reading in spite of the grindingly slow pace of this story,**

 **please read the last A/N note.**

Wednesday, September 9, 1998

Hermione barely made her second period Enchanting class with Harry.

"Where did you go earlier?" he asked her quietly as she sat down next to him just as Enchanter Broadsmore stood up from his desk with the inevitable clipboard and started calling the roll. Harry almost rolled his eyes as there were only nine students. Harry, Hermione, Padma, Daphne, Anthony, Susan, Terry Boot, Megan Jones and Lisa Turpin.

"Later," she whispered back.

And so began a pair of the more confusing hours in Harry's life. He understood the Transfiguration and Charms parts. Without having studied Runes and Arithmancy, Harry was going to struggle with the concepts those disciplines had upon expanding space and time. And how to make those changes to the natural order permanent.

Harry had no more classes that afternoon and therefor headed to the library to find copies of third and fourth year Ancient Runes and Arithmancy texts. He had read most of Hermione's third year runes and Arithmancy texts due to boredom in the tent last year. The problem was he had not studied or revised them. He had to skim those texts quickly. If he could not learn a basic understanding of the two subjects within a few weeks, he would fail Enchanting class spectacularly. He also needed to talk to Assistant Headmistress Vector. She was the Arithmancy professor. When approving his classes for the year, how had she thought he was going to understand a topic he had never had a class on?

Professor Granger had Mundane Studies for the second years at quarter past two that afternoon. She had little time to settle in her classroom before the students came in. And just like Harry, seeing how few second year students there were in all four houses was heartbreaking. These were PureBloods or from powerful sheltered Halfblood families, and there were fifteen of them. That meant only eight Mundanes or Mundane raised second years had returned. They would be in Wizarding Culture class with Madams Tonks and Black. Hermione actually wished the classes were not at the same time as she would have liked to sit in on them occasionally. The scathing lecture on her supposed prejudiced attitude that Narcissa Black had initiated on her weeks ago _still_ rankled.

"Welcome to Mundane Studies class. As I take the roll, please raise your hand as you answer. After all," she said with a smile, "I need to learn your names also."

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Wednesday night, Harry again sat upon the end of the table after dessert. The silence was so intense it almost had form. Earlier in the day, Professor Flitwick had congratulated Harry on having emptied the owlry the night before as students sent missives home retelling the tale to their parents. He had a merry smile on his face as he quipped that Harry had probably tripled the patient load at St. Mungo's as some of the darker PureBlood families probably had acute attacks of Wizard Apoplexy and Magical Choleric as they read the letters.

Harry commenced, "I left off last night with the shade of Tom Riddle being destroyed in the Chamber of Secrets."

"How do you create a shade? I do not know. It was not a ghost because the shade was substantial enough to be able to pick up my wand. How do you kill a shade you might ask? Apparently by killing its anchor, in this case, the basilisk. Perhaps the highly magical beast powered the shade and when it died, Tom was somehow discorporated. But that is just a guess."

Harry took a drink of pumpkin juice and thought, "Wonder if they will buy _that_ pile of dragon dung?"

He started speaking again. "Tom Riddle spent his last years at Hogwarts making connections with the scions of PureBlood society. Now days, we call it networking. By now almost no one remembered the skinny kid in ill-fitting school robes who quickly learned to imitate PureBlood mannerisms because he now dressed the part, he now acted the part. All that was remembered was the consummate student, leader of Slytherin House and charismatic Head Boy."

"After his graduation with high honors from Hogwarts, he then disappointed every one of his teachers. Instead of entering the Ministry or pursuing a Mastery, he went to work for Borgin and Burkes, a shop in Knockturn Alley that dealt in, shall we say `magical objects of dubious background'. Why did he go to work there? No one knows."

Another sip of juice

"However, during the two years he was employed there, several accusations of theft of possibly very valuable Founders relics were made. The thefts seemed to quit after Tom disappeared one night."

"Now the story does enter the realm of conjecture. Young Mister Riddle now disappears from magical Britain for the next twenty-two years. That he delved deep into the Arts of Darkness and Blackest Magics is a guess, but, probably a very good one. Upon his return, he set about reuniting with his PureBlood associates from school and using them as his entry into PureBlood society. At this point in his life he was a very charismatic man. Now calling himself Lord Voldemort, he was handsome and articulate as he charmed the bigoted PureBlood agenda leaders. Several PureBloods who resisted him met deaths that were always ruled accidental, and Heirs newly elevated to their Lordships often owed that elevation to Tom."

Harry continued through `the Halfblood Tom Riddle's' rise to power. The slow build through the years. Infiltrating allies into the Ministry, accidents that allowed Death Eaters both marked and unmarked to advance ever higher in the Ministry ranks.

Than Harry gave a short history of how Ministry corruption sold information on houses, addresses and ward schemes to Tom. How corruption and fear would have Ministry employees slow Auror response time to Death Eater attacks and often block the floo access so as to trap Tom's victims in their homes with no escape possible.

"Halfbloods and Mugg . . Mundaneborn who had shown accidental magic. Those were the Death Eaters favorite targets. And spies sold their locations to Tommy's ilk. That's one reason why class size here became smaller. A lot of little kids and their parents were killed before they ever received their Hogwarts letter."

"They reveled in the killing of young children. Now that is true evil."

"I am tired and I have studying to do. We will pick this up again tomorrow after dinner."

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Wednesday melded into Thursday with little violence, verbal or physical occurring. Members of Dumbledore's Army expressed they were mildly surprised at the lack of incidents. Harry, Hermione and Ron quietly concluded that with the students talking avidly about the Tom Riddle story, they had little time for getting into the habit of plotting revenge. There had been a couple of hair and skin colour changes, and one actually funny prank of the Ravenclaw table at lunch when all their eating utensils went as limp as cooked spaghetti when picked up for use. Luna Lovegood actually squealed in delight at what happened and instead of ranting about it like her fellows, merely made everything into sandwiches and carried on eating with little interruption.

The mass nightmare and anxiety hysteria had partially abated as another night went by with no abuse of students in their classes, or attacks upon students at night.

Thursday morning was Harry's potions theory class, while Hermione had Advanced Runic Structures and Spell Creating Arithmancy. Despite his personal dislike of Slughorn for his part in the rise of young Voldemort, Harry liked his teaching methods. Potion ingredients were covered as how their freshness, collection timing, collection method and preservation method all affected brewing. Ingredient interactions and why the order and timing of adding ingredient to the cauldron were now clearly explained.

Up yours, Snape.

Remembering some of the ingredient preparation changes from Snape's book was still aiding Harry. Slughorn was again gazing favorably upon `Lord Potter'. After lunch Harry and Hermione both had Business Planning and Estate Management. Ron had only NEWT Charms in the morning, although the afternoon would fill with Introductory and Intermediate Broom Flying next week.

Within half an hour, Harry was in love with the BP&EM class. Hermione was quietly snickering at seeing him frantically taking notes while attempting to flip through the textbook like a demented niffler hunting gold coins. Despite half-heartedly wanting to Stinging Hex Hermione,

Harry felt he had found a class that would be useful all his life. He was going to have to get a pen and disillusion it. Stupid quill just was not writing fast enough!

After doing some revising and working on their teaching lesson plans in their suite, Harry and Hermione headed down for dinner and sat down to the eight's year table next to Neville, and across from Padma and Ernie.

"The threats must be working," started Neville. "There has not been one incident of fighting in the halls all day."  
"Longbottom, if you just jinxed us, I will take my frustrations out of your hide," snarled a sour faced, just arrived Daphne Greengrass. She and Tracey gracefully slid onto the bench across from the duo just as Ron sat next to them.

Suppressing a grin, Harry asked, "Short night? Or just busy?"

"Both", came back Greengrass' short reply. "McGonagall asking us for 'just a little help with' the problems Slytherin has because it has no older leadership there is wearing us to a nub."

"True," chipped in Davis. "Also patrolling the castle at night with this target pasted on our backs is nervewracking."

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Professor Granger, in your opinion, does the current condition of Hogwarts warrant a helping hand from Messrs' Prongs, Padfoot and Moony?"

Hermione suddenly gave all her attention into staring back into Harry's eyes. She didn't dare look at the beautiful blonde across from her. Part of her wanted to scream at the attraction she thought was powering Harry's decision about the Marauder's Map, and part did not want anyone else to know one of Harry's secrets, and yet another part saw the merit in the idea.

Finally, with a massive attempt to keep her jealousy off her face, she turned to Greengrass.

"When are the next night patrols by you, Tracey and Millicent by yourselves? Without a prefect from another house as a partner is what I am looking for."

"Myself and Bulstrode, tonight, midnight to two AM patrol. I am thinking on mostly walking the upper floors as the aurors are watching the lower floors closely." Daphne eyed Hermione closely.

Another silent eye expressions only conversation was held by Harry and Hermione.

"OK. Come by our suite at eleven-thirty. We will have something to help."

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Thursday evening after dinner was a repeat of the two previous nights. Harry sat on the table and spoke to the gathered crowd. Again the silence was total. Harry had only found out earlier that anyone who even whispered collected voiceless _Silencio's_ immediately. And if the casters thought they had missed something because of the distraction, they were not lifting the hex after Harry was done.

"As I recall," Harry started. "I was at where Tom Marvolo Riddle finally declared open war on the Ministry of your parents. He was actively hunting and killing aurors, their families and members of the Order of the Phoenix. He was using terror as a weapon. Speak out against him and a visit from the Death Eaters wiped out your whole family."

"Two families in particular had vexed him sorely. The Potters and the Longbottoms. Both families had babies that could possibly fit a prophecy made two years before."

"With the help of a pair of traitors, he found where both families were hiding. On Samhain, Halloween for Mundane born and raised, he invaded my house where he killed my father James Potter and then climbed the stairs to my room where he found my mother. He then ruthlessly killed her so he could get to his real prey. Me."

"I have no real memory of the night. I was only fifteen months old."

Harry stopped and looked around the silent assemblage.

"I have no idea what my mother might have done to me so that when Tom Riddle raised his wand again to kill a baby, the curse rebounded, destroying his body. I say his body, because his soul became a wraith that fled Godric's Hollow. As a weak, tenuous wraith he somehow fled to Albania and there, slowly, ever so slowly over years, he regathered his strength."

"In the meantime, his wealthiest supporters used their money to claim they had taken the Death Eater mark because they had been under the unforgivable _Imperius_ curse. If you had enough money for truly huge bribes and gifts, you were pardoned. If not rich enough, you went to Azkaban."

A lot of quickly cut off noises were heard.

"The wizarding world rejoiced, threw parties, everyone claimed Tom was dead and gone forever."

"And they were wrong."

"At the end of the Tri-Wizard tournament, the greatest traitor in a thousand years, the very same person who betrayed my parents to his master, resurrected Tom Riddle."

"Peter Pettigrew, Hogwarts class of1978, of Gryffindor House was that traitor. The cup had been turned into a portkey that when we grabbed it, delivered Cedric Diggory and I to the ritual site." Very quietly, with a tear running down his cheek, Harry plowed on. "And there, he killed my friend, Cedric."

Harry let the silence stay for a while.

"I will not talk about Riddle's resurrection ceremony since it was very dark magic that the Ministry does not want spread around. After he had his new magical construct parody of a body, he called is remaining marked followers to him in that graveyard, indulged himself in his usual fun of the Crutiatus Curse on a tied up victim, and then decided to kill me in a farce of a duel."

"I did not out-duel Riddle."

Harry took a moment to again look around the Hall.

"Let me repeat that. At the age of fourteen, I _did not_ out-duel the resurrected Lord Voldemort."

"I was very lucky to have escaped from the most powerful wizard we will ever meet. It turned out our wand cores were from the same creature. Ollivander has told me that fortuitous chance, and some old magic cast on me by my mother, kept construct Riddle from killing me when he cursed me using his infamous yew wand. The surprise of his wand not working on me gave me time to grab Cedric and the Tri-wizard cup. "

"As a lot of you saw when I reappeared at the maze entrance, the cup as a portkey still worked. That is how I escaped and brought Cedric with me away from that monster."

Harry was breaking down rapidly.

"In fifth year the Umbitch ne ."

"Language, Professor Potter!"

"Apologies. Senior Under Secretary to the Minister of Magic, Delores Umbridge tried to rule in the Ministry's name here with an iron fist. The older students will tell you about her and the reports in the Daily Prophet will inform you as to when and why she will be on trial during the next Wizengamot session."

"Because of her, Dumbledore's Army was founded. In the beginning it actually was for the purpose of teaching ourselves the proper fifth year spells so we could pass our OWL's. It was just an OWL level spell learning club when we started."

"The end of the year saw six of us students going to the Ministry to rescue my godfather, whom I thought was being tortured by Riddle. The visions that drove me into going to the Department of Mysteries were fakes, sent to me by Riddle himself. As I have said, he was a powerful wizard. My friends tried to persuade me it was a trap, but I was stupid and stubborn."

"They were right, it was a trap."

"Every one of us came within a whisker of dying and instead of rescuing my godfather; he was killed coming to the rescue of the so-called Ministry Six. The only good part was that after Riddle and Dumbledore dueled in the Ministry atrium, everyone knew Voldemort had returned."

Harry stopped once again to regain his composure.

"Sixth year was a disaster. At the end, Draco Malfoy let Death Eaters into the castle. Tom had told him to do so or he would kill him and all his family. Severus Snape was the person who killed Headmaster Dumbledore. He did so at Dumbledore's order, as a Withering Curse was going to kill him in about a month anyway."

"Why you may ask? Because Snape was Dumbledore's spy among the Death Eaters. Killing Dumbledore would raise Snape higher in Riddle's council."

"Seventh year was Professors Granger, Weasley and I on the run. Cold, hungry, trying to keep from getting caught by snatchers while trying to find the Sword of Gryffindor and some hidden artifacts needed to kill Tom Riddle. We actually came back here to find the last artifact and collect some basilisk fangs to use to kill Tom's familiar, the snake Nagini, because the sword had been stolen. But, and never forget, a TRUE Gryffindor called the sword to him and killed that bedamned snake."

Harry took a short pause to calm himself down.

"I can hardly put into words the admiration I have for Lord Neville Longbottom. That man behind me, restarted the DA when the Carrows started abusing and terrorizing students all in the name of blood purity. Most of you here know the story better than I do. How he gathered the bravest and gave hope to all trapped here. Ernie MacMillan, Susan Bones, Padma and Parvati Patil, Ginny Weasley, Seamus Finnegan, Lavender Brown, Romilda Vane. I am sure there are others but I do not yet know the whole story. Just as you are learning about Riddle from me, I am going to have to learn the story of the DA from them."

"He was the man who taught students to fight. Without the DA, we never would have had enough wands to stop Riddle's first attack. And we did stop it. The reason Tommy Boy stopped that attack and demanded I come meet him was not because of some magical blood being spilt excuse. He had just lost so many wizards, witches and dark creatures that the attack had become disorganized and was failing. We just didn't know that."

Harry paused again, and reached back and snagged a goblet of pumpkin juice.

"I may have been the person who finally killed Voldemort because of some really esoteric wand lore, but Neville `Snakeslayer' Longbottom (1) and the Sword of Gryffindor are two of the reasons why I could."

Harry raised his goblet.

"To Snakeslayer Longbottom!" And Harry drank deeply from the goblet. AND manfully kept a smirk off his face.

"Snakeslayer Longbottom" echoed the call as almost all the Hall toasted Neville.

Behind him he could hear the muttering.

"Bastard. Rat ass fucking, lowlife pond scum sucking, bowtruckle shit eating, son of a . .

Sod it. I can't say that because his parents were married and his mother was a nice person. He however is a lowlife evil git."

"Hmmm," thought Harry with an internal grin. "Better watch myself for a while and really ward my bedroom tonight. Neville sounds unhappy for some reason. Tsk."

With that thought Harry hopped off the table and stood.

"You have now been told the condensed story of Tom Marvolo Riddle. An evil child who became an evil man and then was resurrected as an insane, sadistic evil creature construct."

"And also the story of the sadistic wizards and witches who decided to follow him anyway."

"I will not answer any questions on the subject of Tom Marvolo Riddle after tonight. I will tell you this though. One image I will never forget without an obliviation. It happened at his resurrection. It is the picture of arrogant and proud PureBloods of Most Ancient and Ancient Families who claimed they bowed to no one, crawling on their bellies across the muddy ground to kiss the hem of his robe. Gahh."

In the ensuing silence, Harry strode out of the Great Hall and figuring he might as well get it over with, headed for the Eights common room. He would give them an hour of further questions before escaping to his Head of House suite. He had the second years for DADA theory and the fifth years for a two hour practical DADA class tomorrow and felt he needed more prep time.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

It was to be another short meeting for the Eights. The co-Heads of House expected a lot of grousing from their year mates about it being a NEWT year and they were already going to be overworked before this silliness came about.

Hermione stood and asked who wanted some extra credit on their CV. She proceeded to tell the Eights that McGonagall had decided to use the older, experienced students as a resource. Depending on schedules McGonagall wanted more prefects, substitute teachers and until further notice, Slytherin bodyguards.

"Don't worry," Hermione said. "We will call the last duty being a Proctor and it should not last past the Yule Holidays. We prefer PureBloods or Halfbloods who were not here last year as Proctors."

"We do not want to tempt fate," she continued. "Because as sure as the Black Lake will be there in the morning, some PureBlood, probably a Slytherin, is going to make an insulting blood comment and things will escalate if some Mundaneborn slaps them down."

"Leave me your name if you want to be a prefect with all the usual prefect duties and perks.

I will forward it to the Headmistress."

"Another CV boost awaiting is that Harry and I are going to miss a fair amount of classes we are scheduled to teach because of being witnesses at some Ministry trials. Harry will then continue going to London because he is going to be joining the Wizengamot and his enemies will probably try to schedule meetings at times to cause him maximum problems. So your schedule permitting, Mundanes come talk to me about teaching an occasional Mundane Studies class. Outlines and teaching materials will be provided."

"Those who think they are hot shot teaching, hex slinging spell casters, talk to Harry." Hermione returned a thin smile to those whom chuckled at her last statement.

That thin smile turned into an evil smirk. "Lastly, Heiress Greengrass and Mr. Ernie MacMillan. You have been specifically volunteered as substitute teachers for Wizarding Culture class when Madam Tonks or Madam Black has Wizengamot duties. If either of you wants out of the job, find another volunteer." Big smirk.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The questioning by his fellow Eights was as bad as he had feared. Somebody Up There seemed to have taken pity on him as both Hermione and Ron flanked him as they sat on a trio of conjured chairs on a transfigured raised platform. This allowed everyone in the room to see them, and they could see everyone in the room.

"How do you want to do this?" Harry asked. "You just want to shout out questions or write them down on a parchment scrap and let Padma read them? Whatever, but let's make it quick. We all have work we should be doing. You have one hour of our time, and one question each."

Perhaps not surprisingly, Padma spoke rapidly. "Write out the questions. I'll read them in the order received."

A few people objected, but no one strenuously, and twenty-eight people started producing or transfiguring parchment, ink and quills. How had Ginny and Luna sneaked in again?

As parchment scraps were thrust into Padma's hands, she quickly sorted them and in only a few minutes she started reading.

"Was Snape really a spy for Dumbledore?"

Harry answered that one. "Yes he was. Apparently he had a change of heart and approached Dumbledore about the same time as I was born. Despite being a marked Death Eater, he somewhere found remorse. His work was very dangerous as Riddle was the strongest Legilimans in the country."

The questions went on. The one that threw Harry was, "You said you needed to collect some basilisk fangs in order to kill the snake. Was that Slytherin's Monster? A basilisk? Was it in the Chamber of Secrets? Did you get the fangs? What happened to them?"

Fortunately Harry could pass that question on to Ron and Hermione and let them deal with dodging direct answers as to how they got into the Chamber that night.

"You said your Godfather was killed at the fight in the Ministry. Who was your Godfather?"

Harry closed his eyes briefly as the familiar pain chased through his mind. "My Godfather was Sirius Black"

The House members had been outstandingly polite about not interrupting until that point.

Suddenly Ernie Macmillan interrupted with in a shocked voice. "Harry, that's impossible! If he was your Godfather, he never could have betrayed your parents to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

"He did not betray my parents to Tom Riddle. Peter Pettigrew did. We three learned that in third year," Harry responded.

"But . ."

Harry held up a hand. "He never had a trial. The Heir of the House of Black was never given a trial. Why? PureBlood power politics. Merlin's Skinny Arse, even Bellatrix Lestrange was given a trial."

The questions continued after that answer had been absorbed.

Some were serious, some were stupid, and some . . .

"Harry, how does a girl get a date with you?"

Padma read the question and then almost burst a blood vessel trying to keep from laughing.

She failed. Turned out her laugh was not screechy girly. She actually had a pleasant laugh. The rest of the room's reactions went from hilarity by some to avid interest by a lot of the young women present.

The reactions of the trio varied. Ron's face had a huge grin as he struggled with his laughter. Harry could not keep himself from blushing and looking panicked at the thought of `a date'? Hermione sat stone faced.

Harry never did answer the question.

"Last question, Harry," Padma waved the last parchment scrap.

Harry gave a small sigh of relief. The questioning had been embarrassing at times, but not dangerous

However as she read it, she paled and hesitated, looking everywhere except at Harry. She visibly gathered her wits and courage before squeaking as she started to read. She stopped, cleared her throat and restarted.

"For years the rumor has been you killed Professor Quirrell during first year. Did you, and if so, why and how?"

Harry really, really did not want to answer that question. Shock at the question rippled out from Padma. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and his eyes were drawn to his right where he saw Greengrass' stare drilling holes through his skull. At that moment he knew it was her question and prevaricating or lying would cost him the fragile understanding the summer had built between them.

With a couple of eye blinks, he wondered, "Why do I care?"

With an obvious deep breath, Harry gave a slight nod to her and began to speak.

"Kill him? Yes, I probably did. The reason? He was trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone so he could give it to Voldemort who then could return from being a wraith into a new body."

Gasps around the room.

"How I did it? My best guess is that whatever protection my mother placed on me that bounced the Killing Curse back at Voldemort still kept him from touching me. Whenever he touched me, his body blistered and burned, causing intense pain."

"How we found that the Stone was at Hogwarts is secret. We originally thought Snape was trying to steal it. After all, he was a right git and general all around arse."

Harry continued to tell the tale. He glossed over parts such as the long search for Nicholas Flamel and how they had learned how to put the guard dog Cerberus to sleep. He had Hermione tell of the Devil's Snare, and picked up the narrative in the flying keys room. Ron got to tell the story of the giant piece chess match. Both Harry and Hermione lifted an eyebrow at each other when `Attention Hog Ron' skipped over his knightly sacrifice that allowed Harry to checkmate the white king.

"No, no, no. This will not do," interrupted Harry. He promptly brought to everyone's attention that the only way he had been able to checkmate the white king was because of the sacrifice of their black knight. He vividly described the white queen advancing and then smashed her rock-like arm into Ron, knocking him off the knight piece leaving him unconscious on the floor. And how at the idiot age of eleven, after checking on Ron to see how badly he was hurt, he persuaded Hermione to keep moving onward with him.

"Mate," Harry said. "I know I was only eleven, and stupid, but I want to apologize for having left you lying there. I should have quit and hauled you back to Professor McGonagall's office right then."

For the next several minutes Ron kept saying Harry did the right thing after checking that he was not badly injured and Harry kept repeating how sorry he was that he had been so obsessed with stopping Quirrell that he had just left him there.

At that point a languid, bored sounding voice intervened.

"If you two are done with your budding bromance, could we get back to the story?"

Every eye in the room swiveled to look at Tracey Davis.

"What," she snarked as she glared back at the interest. "If they want to keep it up, let 'em get a room later."

Ron and Harry looked at each other and promptly broke into laughter. Even Hermione was smiling. After a couple of recovery minutes, Harry restarted the narrative with divulging how happy he was that the mountain troll in the next room had been knocked out. Harry made the crack that fighting one troll per year was his limit.

Harry passed the story telling torch back to Hermione for the potions room part of the tale.

Somehow she managed to make it into a thrilling account. The springing up of the lines of magical fire. The line of bottles, the directions that she could still recite to this day. She actually had several of the Eights stopping her so they could try to solve the puzzle then and there.

When she reached the part where Harry had to trust that she had gotten the right solution, it was obvious that there was only enough potion for one to walk through the fire to the next room.

She had unshed tears as she told of Harry downing the potion she had picked and then bravely walking into the fire, while she went back to try to help Ron.

Every eye in the room now locked onto Harry.

"Remember I said we believed it was Snape trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone? You cannot imagine the shock when I entered the room there was no Snape. Instead I found Quirrell talking to himself. I would find in a few minutes that to my horror, he was not talking to himself."

"How many of you know that Professor Quirrell had been on sabbatical the year before we started here at Hogwarts? During his travels he somehow stumbled onto the wraith of Tommy in Albania."

"Remember, Tom was a very intelligent, very persuasive, charismatic person. Even as a wraith, those traits would have been present. Quirinus Quirrell was a wizard of mediocre talent who wanted to be more."

Harry looked around his assembled classmates. "According to that night's short lecture I received from Riddle, isn't that what we all want? More power? More money? More knowledge? Think about it. What might you give for . . More?"

As he looked at the arc of classmates arrayed in front of him, several stopped meeting his eyes and looked uncomfortable with their thoughts.

"I do not know what Tom finally offered Professor Quirrell to make him take the final step that damned him. I do know that by the time he taught his first DADA class, he was possessed by the wraith, the spirit, perhaps even the soul of Tom Marvolo Riddle. And as soon as Tom's spirit left his body, Quirrell would die."

"Anyway, when I walked in, Quirrell was working at trying to get a powerful magical mirror to give him the Stone. He had me in an _Incarcerous_ before I could move. After the standard villain talk about how he had tried to kill me earlier and how I was a pain to his plans, he got down to business."

Quirrell freed me from the _Incarcerous_ and had me walk over to the magical mirror and started threatening me to find him the Stone."

"At that point, things became seriously weird."

Harry grinned back at the looks of unbelief _that_ statement produced.

"Remember that ridiculous purple turban Quirrell wore? He started unwinding it from his head. And when he was done, there was Voldemort's face stuck to the back of Quirrell's head. And the face started talking. I was so terrified I couldn't even scream. How I didn't shite my pants, I will never know."

Harry paused for a moment to order his thoughts.

"Voldemort at that point started with his villain harangue. Then he wanted to know what I saw in the mirror. I lied about what I saw."

"And at that point that damned mirror dropped the Stone into my pants pocket. Voldemort sensed it and told Quirrell to kill me and take the stone."

"Suddenly the weirdness kicked up a notch as when Quirrell touched me his skin blistered and burned. Now the madness increases again. Voldemort is screaming `Kill him', Quirrell is screaming in pain and I'm screaming in bloody terror."

Short pause.

"At some point I passed out. I actually don't remember killing Quirrell, but Dumbledore told me, that he died when Voldemort abandoned his damaged body to flee from Dumbledore as a wraith again."

"As I'm sure you all want to know, Dumbledore gave the Stone back to the Flamels."

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

At exactly half past eleven later that night, the expected knock sounded from their suite's door.

When the door opened a pair of robed Eighth years swept into the suite's sitting room where Harry and Hermione awaited them.

The co-Heads of house looked them over as the pair made to stand in front of the pair of tables they were using as desks that evening. Greengrass and Bulstrode actually made quite an impression as they entered. Their robes were well fitted and of more expensive looking material than their normal school robes. A small frown etched its way onto Hermione's face.

"Why is Bulstrode wearing fine robes and looking . . different? Better? Than previous years?"

"Greetings Professors. You intimated at dinner you might have a way to improve our safety while doing our snaky prefect rounds?" Greengrass drawled in exquisite PureBlood tones.

Harry snorted at her tone, and with a small smirk replied in the poshest Narcissa Black-taught tone he could muster. "Why yes, Heiress Greengrass. I do believe we can decrease the odds of you and the lovely Miss Bulstrode catching a curse in the back during your appointed rounds."

Daphne quirked an eyebrow. Mils flushed, then her eyes started to harden at the thought he might be mocking her.

Harry stood up and motioned them to stand in front of the table he had been seated at.

"What I am going to show you, and let you borrow, is one tiny step from Family Magic. Therefor I need a promise from you not to tell anyone about the object, and to never talk about the object to anyone except myself, Hermione or Ron."

"I am not going to demand an Unbreakable Vow from you two as this secret is not of that level. However, I do not need loose talking pasting a target on my back due to your not being able to keep your mouths shut."

"Are we clear?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

Harry produced a piece of parchment from his robes, laid it on the table and tapped it with his wand.

" _I solemnly swear I am up to no good"_

As the Marauder's Map performed its magic, spreading ink showing the names and location of everyone on the page Harry had opened, the comments flowed from the two young women.

Greengrass; "Merlin, Morgana and Maeve where did you get this?"

Bulstrode, leaning over the map, "I want this every time Davis goes on a date. I'll show that bint no mercy."

"Aww. Come on Mils, it was one time and if you had remembered to lock the door, she would not have been able to tease you for the last two years."

Bulstrode looked up from the map and snarled at Harry. "Alright Potter, what's your price?"

At that point, Greengrass grabbed the other girl and with surprising strength dragged her away from the table. After a whispered argument, the duo walked back to the table with the map upon it. Bulstrode still looked mulish.

"Professor, would you please teach us how this is going to keep us protected?"

Fifteen minutes later, the blonde and her large companion set off to relieve the current patrollers with the last of Harry's maledictions still ringing through the heads.

"If you let this parchment get stolen, or confiscated by another professor, I will channel Snape in potions, picking on Gryffindors, upon you every day for the rest of your NEWT year."

 **A/N**

 **One – Snakeslayer is** **not** **original from me. Could not tell you the author or**

 **story as I read it before I started saving that type of information.**

 **Collecting ideas to, and actually planning to write a story, is relatively recent.**

 **Wow. Two whole days mashed into one chapter. Enjoy. It won't last.**

 **WARNING: I think the next RV park will have decent WiFi. If so, I will attempt**

 **to change all the chapters Alix33 has so kindly worked at editing. (Read the reviews section)**

 **If I bollix it up, the story may take a while to un-FUBAR.**

 **What finally persuaded me to try was my wife has suggested that Alix get a**

 **new, shiny,** _ **sharp**_ **knife so I do not bleed out as fast.**


	18. Chapter 18, The Greengrass Opening

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 18

The usual `JK Rowling owns it all' disclaimer.

I own nuttin', I make nuttin', it's all hers.

The Greengrass Opening Gambit

 **A/N – Early version, before story.**

 **Learned from editing and replacing Chapter 17 that an alert got sent out as though I had** **posted a new chapter. As I do not want to drive my readers (Whom I Thank for staying with, and favoriting my story) crazy, I will have to think about what to do with the previous chapters I have gone back and corrected/edited and had planned upon replacing.**

 **If anyone knows a work around, please PM or write it as a review.**

 **Alix went through all that effort to fix my grammar, I made the effort to** **change the mistakes.**

 **I want to have a positive outcome from all this work.**

Friday September 11, 1998

Harry's fifth year students filed into the main DADA classroom. This time instead of an almost practical twenty-three second years, he now had twenty-six fifth years, a truly awkward number.

Following protocol, he took the roll and then proceeded to test the students fourth year practical skills. They were actually worse off in what they had been taught versus the standard curriculum compared to the second years. Harry's guess was the then fourteen year olds had been considered just old enough to start learning Dark curses instead of what spells had been considered normal for decades prior. Only the three Syltherins, and one each 'Puff, 'Claw and Lion were at the fourth year passed standard.

With twenty minutes remaining, Harry gathered the teens around.

"Alright, what happened? Staunton, Gardenier, Wheeler, Stilton, McLaughlin and Rothsbay. You all can pass the fourth year tests. How . ." Inspiration struck Harry. "You six were not here last year. You were elsewhere or tutored."

The six teens emotions ran the gamut from pleased to proud to embarrassed. And not all the embarrassment was due to the praise. The eyes that flickered over to the other students instantly told Harry that they were also having a case of survivors guilt. They had not been among the harassed and tortured last year.

"For you six, I am very happy that your parents heeded what little warning got out to get their children elsewhere for as long as it took."

That was not always the reason for fleeing. Harry was willing to bet some of those teens were the last heirs of families either Light sided or Halfblood. Someone had seen the rolling disaster approaching and had taken action.

Harry would like to meet them.

"Here is what this class is going to do. The first hour and a half is going to be spent on learning the fifth year spell curriculum. This means you are going to have to study like never before to have the spell incantations and movements ready when class starts. The last half hour will be remedial fourth year spells. And again show up for class prepared with wand movements and incantations."

"No excuses will be accepted. You have to learn eighteen spells for your OWL's, and seven to nine fourth year spells. Everyone here has sixth and seventh year wizards and witches in your houses. Ask for their help, ask your six year mates here for help with the fourth year stuff, start a DADA club. _Do Not_ sit on your behinds wailing `Woe is me. Tom Riddle and the Carrow's have ruined me forever.'

Harry looked around the class again.

If you are too prideful to ask for help, you will probably end up paying for special tutoring, or failing."

"Your choice."

"Next class, be prepared for the _Rennervate_ spell and the wound bandaging _Ferula_ spell. For the make-up fourth year spell, _Scourgify_. For next class, I want ten inches on the wand movement and incantation of each spell.

"Remember, this is a practical course. I _do not_ want a foot and a half essay on each spell. If you must try to impress someone with how much you know about a spell by writing about it, pick another class. I want wand movements and incantations. Not ink on parchment."

He smirked. "That is for your theoretical part of the class."

As Harry finished, the students glanced at each other.

"Alright, class dismi . ."

A hand shot up in the air.

Harry sighed quietly.

"Mister Farrell, you have a question?"

"Professor, the second years have been claiming that you can produce a corporeal patronus, and my sister has sworn for years you performed a patronus during your OWL examination. Can you really? And can you teach us?"

Harry sighed again silently. Of course it would be worse if the youngsters had lost their willingness to learn.

Harry walked back to his desk.

" _Expecto Patronum"_

And Prongs appeared to produce his happy magic on all in the room.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Later that night Hermione was seated at one of the tables in the Eights common room studying when Daphne Greengrass approached. Harry and Ron were off visiting Hagrid.

"Granger, we need to talk."

Hermione raised her head from the Ancient Runes text she was reading, and looked up past her nest of surrounding books, into the diamond bright blue eyes of fellow Eighth Year Daphne Greengrass.

"Yes, what can I do for you?" the brunette, bushy-haired young women replied, stepping on her irritation at being interrupted as the gorgeous blonde slid into the seat next to her. At the moment, Daphne Greengrass was not on Hermione's friends list. She knew what she felt was at least three counts of jealousy towards the stunningly beautiful blonde girl. First, she had attracted the interest of her friend Harry during their summer building the Eighth Year dormitory. Hermione also resented that she had felt pressured to include Greengrass in the Snuggle Witches rotation, where she and Harry had become friendly. And last, when Greengrass was in full, regal PureBlood mode, she made her feel frumpy and clumsy.

"Well," the cultured drawl of the ex-Slytherin Ice Queen quietly carried only as far as Hermione's ear, "First, I would like to tell you that I have in my room several hair conditioning potions that would make a tremendous difference in taming your hair."

Hermione frowned back with narrow, suspicious eyes at the comment about her normally untamable bushy brown hair.

Hermione's frown was deepening when Daphne held out a large, thick tome and placed it on the table in front of Hermione, "Secondly, I would take it as a personal favor if you would read this book, and make the time to discuss it with me, . . Sunday evening?"

"Greengrass", Hermione replied not deigning to look at the book, "I'm really busy right now."

"I am studying for my beyond NEWT classes, working on my Mundane Studies Assistantship duties, I have tutoring sessions and . . . "

"Granger, "Daphne interrupted with a smirk. "We have been in classes less than a week. Even you cannot have reached time saturation yet."

A wand suddenly appeared in the blondes hand, and before any of the idly curious watchers combat reflexes could react with violence, a quick Muffliato and a visual blur ward was around the table, and the wand disappeared.

"Granger, I cannot, repeat, cannot, emphasize just how important it is that you read this book. I'm sure what you are doing is important to you at this moment." The blue eyes darkened from whatever Greengrass was remembering from the book. "That will change after you understand what is in here."

"That important, huh?" came the waspish reply from Hermione. "Hell of an opinion of yourself you have there, Greengrass.

"Yes." Came the cool, no give statement from the blondes' lips.

At that moment, some perverse imp made Hermione open her mouth and say, "Oh, who will this book tell me I have to save this time? "

The famous Ice Queen of Slytherin mask instantly descended on Daphne's face as she slowly lifted her head and locked flat, dead eyes on Hermione.

"Harry James Potter. Isn't that what you specialize in doing?"

As Hermione gaped in shock, Daphne's wand re-appeared and with a quick flick, the privacy charms disappeared. She turned and glided back to the couch where her friend Tracy Davis waited with a carefully blank face and the two young women turned and headed off to their bedroom. (1)

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Two days later, Sunday evening.

The rest of the weekend had passed in a swirl of normal studying and homework for most of the Eights. The book from Greengrass had absorbed completely her free time. When most of the Eights used their adult status to go down to Hogsmeade on Saturday, she had stayed in the castle reading, studying and planning.

The old, disused classroom off the fourth floor corridor really was very dusty mused Hermione as she employed some cleaning spells from her wand and settled in to wait for Daphne Greengrass' arrival. The Hogwarts house elves were still so busy with their normal school-in-session work, and the continuing re-building of the damaged castle, that unused areas were getting no maintenance attention from them at all.

"Oh, how I miss the Room of Requirement" Hermione thought. "It would be ideal for a meeting such as this one is likely to become." The lamented Room had not reappeared after the FiendFyre had consumed the Room of Lost Things, and Hermione felt that a friend had been lost in the conflagration, a friend she could trust to keep secrets. And war had brutally shown her how exposed secrets could get you and yours killed.

Transfiguring a pair of comfortable chairs and a table from some broken desks, she sat and pulled from her book bag the tome Greengrass had given her a week ago, a fountain pen and several pieces of parchment with writing on them, and placed them all on the table. Hermione had no clue as to the title of the book. It had some extremely powerful charms placed that blurred any titles on the cover or chapter headings. Annoyed by the secrecy, Hermione had attempted to remove or break the charm, or charms, and had not only failed miserably, but during the last try, the book had zapped her with a purple spark of something that had left her wand arm useless for hours. She had been having nightmares about purple spells ever since almost killed by one during the fight at the Department of Mysteries years ago. So, discretion had triumphed over annoyance and Hermione had settled for reading the book best as she could.

The book turned out to be absolutely, bloody gobsmacking amazing. Someone had compiled a list of all the PureBlood families in Magical Great Britain, all of their family trees, marriages, political alliances, business alliances, how they made their money and even an estimate of each family's wealth. The book revealed that someone had vast knowledge of the influence each family had in the Wizengamot, who they controlled and had influence with. Hermione was starting to lose sleep trying to plan how to use the information sometime after graduation and also how to get Greengrass to show her what was written in the obviously tampered parts of the book she could not read.

And finally she was plotting revenge for that purple spark.

Hermione's ruminations were interrupted by the old door creaking open to admit Greengrass and her hip implant Tracy Davis. She had a brief thought of them not separating even to shower. Of course that could mean . . . Hermione chopped that thought off. Of course both Greengrass and Davis were very pretty. You could do worse if you wanted to play with the home team. Hermione chopped that thought off also.

"Damn. I need a boyfriend!" She thought. The face that leapt into her mind, made her blush.

Hermione watched as Greengrass performed some impressive high level locking and silencing charms on the door and around the room. With a huff she transfigured another chair at the table.

"Greetings Granger. How is our illustrious Co-Head of House doing today?" Greengrass smirked. Hermione's glare bounced right off the blondes unflappable bearing.

"Greetings Greengrass, greetings Davis. I am doing quite well today," replied Hermione calmly.

The two witches walked over to the table and sat in the chairs provided.

Greengrass spoke, "I must say, Granger, you transfigure a comfortable chair"

"Well", replied Hermione, "One should observe the proprieties when meeting with such distinguished PureBlood guests from House Slytherin."

"Halfblood here Granger, and I much prefer to be known as an Eighth Year." growled Davis. "Sucks to be a Halfblood in Slytherin."

Hermione blinked at the obvious dislike in Davis' voice for her ex-house. And mentally kicked herself for not remembering Davis' status from the book.

"Wait a minute," Hermione thought. "House Davis and House Greengrass were both missing from that book. So that's what was blanked out."

Further thought later in the week would bring her the realization that more had been hidden from her than those two houses. And when she realized that she had been so fascinated by the books revelations that she completely overlooked that other families were also missing, it would piss her off for weeks

Greengrass spoke up after a look at Davis. "I will make the assumption that you found the book endlessly fascinating and informative?" Hermione nodded her head.

"Tell me Granger. Have you come to any conclusions as to how the book is indexed?" Greengrass said.

"No, not yet", Hermione admitted grudgingly. Alphabetically had not worked. Age of House had not worked. Estimated wealth had not worked. Hermione's logically constructed mind had been equal parts frustrated and appalled.

"I suggest that thinking about it too much is a waste of time." Greengrass said. "The method used in the magic when the book was first created has long since been overrun by chronic lack of logic in the wizarding world. It is a true one-of-a-kind artifact."

Hermione just looked back at her. "Logic and its non-existence in the wizard world strikes again," she thought.

"Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way? "Inquired Greengrass with a lifted eyebrow. Hermione nodded once.

Greengrass gestured to the pile of parchment and paper. "I will now answer the questions about the book that I am allowed to. I will tell you up front you are going to be disappointed due to what little I can talk about at this time."

With a look of frustration that Hermione was sure she was going to be repeating, she asked, "Can you tell me where the book came from?"

"No."

"Can you tell me who the book belongs to?"

"No."

"Can you tell me what enchantment keeps me from reading parts of the book."

"No."

"Is anybody _not_ in this book a member of the Wizengamot, head any departments in the Ministry, or own a large successful business in this country?"

Pause. "No. But I could be wrong about the third part of your question."

Another two minutes went by with Hermione asking questions and Greengrass replying in the negative. Hermione finally stopped talking, huffed hugely and glared at Greengrass. Hermione's life was a hunt to satisfy her voracious appetite for knowledge and Greengrass was keeping knowledge she wanted locked away. To her, what was being done was somewhere between blasphemous and evil incarnate. That Greengrass had already gifted her with enormous knowledge from the book was irrelevant.

To Daphne, the look in Granger eyes made her surreptitiously finger her wand, as she wondered if the hard-eyed witch was angry enough that hexes were about to start flying.

As Hermione succeeded in reining in her temper before she threw a tantrum and started hurling blasting curses at everything in sight, a part of her mind wondered if her lack of sleep was finally pushing her over the edge of what she felt was her somewhat fragile sanity. She made the effort to sound normal as she asked one last question from her lists.

"Alright, she said. "an oddity that I noticed was that the Millicent Bulstrode's family was one of the few that had no business or source of income listed. Is the book ignorant, or are they that secretive? I mean, you've lived with her for seven years"

It was Greengrass' turn to blink and develop that blank "I'm thinking" look on her face. It was almost half a minute before Greengrass stopped staring, looked over to Davis and cocked a questioning eye at her.

Davis shrugged a bit and said, "No idea. Mils (2) has never said anything. And now that you have me thinking about it, all these years, she has never talked about her family's work. She has never bragged about its success or moaned about how bad things are for her family because some business deal had gone tits up. Ack, I mean sour, sour!" the rapidly flushing dark haired girl wailed.

The other two girls quickly placed a hand across their mouths to keep from breaking out in giggles at Tracey. This was not supposed to be a girly get together. This was business.

Regaining her composure, Daphne spoke, "Our time together, pleasant as it is, is coming to an end for today."

She then dipped her hand into her book bag and removed a new looking purple leather bound book.

"I wish to further your education a bit further, Granger," she stated. "This is a book from a private library and is titled Our Ministry: Ministerial Departments and Personnel."

If you would take the time to read it, we will have something else to converse upon, say, same time in three days?"

"Is this another book designed to be as uninformative as your last recommendation?" Hermione snarked, glaring at Greengrass.

"If you found that book uninformative, then you are not as intelligent, or as bright as six years of observing you at this school had led me to believe," Greengrass snarked right back.

She continued, "I will guarantee you will not find the information you have been given access to in its pages anywhere else in the wizarding world. The information has many possible uses. I suggest you start coming up with some of those uses."

With that, Daphne stood up, walked over, picked up the first book she had loaned Hermione, and with Tracy in her wake, headed for the door and into the hallway.

Hermione's frustration was so great that she seethed for a whole minute before her observant side kicked in and she realized that the locking and silencing charms Greengrass had used, and then removed, on the doorway were very advanced spell work. As a matter of fact, they were NEWT level Charms that Professor Flitwick was supposed to be teaching in a few months. In fact they were almost as powerful as Hermione's would have been if she had performed the same spells.

Hermione actually blinked a few times as she had a sudden thought that the academic distance between number one, her, and Greengrass, in the Eighth Years was not as great a distance as she had thought.

Her next thought was, "Wait, what was that comment about having watched me for six years?"

Later that night as she and Harry sat in their shared Eighth Years Heads of House suite doing some late revising and talking about what further improvements Hermione could make to the Mundane Studies course she was teaching four hours a week to First and Second year students, she told Harry about the two books she had gotten from Greengrass. She _did not_ mention the warning about Harry their fellow eighth year had given her almost a week ago. Professor Trelawney had made more specific prophecies than blondie had.

After describing how she was given the first book, and then the meeting earlier, she started analyzing out loud, obviously using Harry as a sounding board.

"Harry," she said. "It was a really peculiar book. The more I think about it, that book would be the type of thing Lucius Malfoy would have had so he could get leverage or extortion material on people he couldn't bribe. I mean, suppose you knew a Head of Family you needed to vote your way in the Wizengamot. And that they import Flaming Screech Sprouts from Tibet. But Tibet is having a drought that cut the harvest in half. Now if you quickly bought up the available supply, you could hurt that family's income because they wouldn't have any for their customers. Now, being a Malfoy rat bastard, you dangle that they can get a supply of Flaming Screech Sprouts if they just vote yea or nay on some supposedly-minor, probably-not-so-little legislation you are sponsoring in the Wizengamot."

"Since I doubt that Narcissa is selling off Malfoy family grimoires or some such secrets," Harry mused, "where do you think that Greengrass got that book?

Hearing Harry say that out loud suddenly crystalized the information that Hermione had been trying to organize in her head. She was out of her chair and giving Harry one of her patented Hermy Hugs so fast he figured she must have apparated across the table.

She was actually hopping in place while hugging Harry.

"That's it Harry," she squealed. "That book must be something like an Old Family grimoire!

I mean it's not really, because I could read it, but I'll bet my Order of Merlin bonus that it is a piece of old, powerful Greengrass Family magic!"

Harry usually would have been deafened by a point blank Hermione squeal. His hearing was saved by his position. He was still sitting when standing Hermione squid-hugged him. And the ear not covered by her arm was squashed into her chest.

Her soft, cushy, bobbling chest.

Harry flushed so fast and so bright that the front of Hermione's jumper surely had a huge scorch mark upon it. He was about to frantically try to escape when several thoughts flashed through his mind. First, was embarrassment because it was into _Hermione's_ chest he was clutched. Second, if he clawed himself away from her, how hurt would she be that he seemed to not want to touch her? Third, was how wonderful her chest felt. Did he really want to stop this sensation?

Was he daft?

But still . . . IT WAS HERMIONE!

Bugger.

Harry's thoughts screeched to a crashing halt as Hermione suddenly stopped hopping and slowly un-wrapped her arms from around his head and shoulders.

Harry refused to look up to her face as she slowly stepped backwards.

"Uh, I . ., um I gottagototheloo!" she sprayed out and scurried through the suites bathroom door, slamming it behind her.

Harry sat in stunned immobility.

Confusion coursed through his mind. On one hand, what had happened was wonderful. On the other hand, he had no idea how he was going to be able to look her in the eye.

Harry had the premonition that he was in for several uncomfortable days around his suite mate.

As Harry had feared, Hermione was stiff and distant around him for the next two days. Harry mostly avoided being alone with her in the Head of House sitting room. He did notice she was in a full Hermione Knowledge to be Gained quest while reading that second book she had gotten from Greengrass. She was also taking copious notes while reading, and had one time absent mindedly asked Harry if she could borrow Hedwig to deliver a letter. Her mortification immediately after that gaffe was teary. Of course he forgave her thoughtlessness. He could never forget his familiar in his mind but the raw grief had scabbed over.

He figured that by pretending what had happened had not happened, he could get his best friend relaxed and back to normal. Or what he thought should be normal.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The pair of women were sitting in their shared bedroom. They had been roommates for seven years and had not hesitated to continue for an eighth year.

"Do you think Granger has managed to get him into her bed yet?"

"I think not," was the reply. "She still looks exhausted, and does not have that glow of a happy, satisfied witch."

"Huh, he looks no better," came the snarky return. "Maybe he just does not have any bedroom skills."

"Neither of them look uncomfortable in the others presence. I would bet they have avoided attempting the dirty deed as of yet," came the cultured drawl.

"So, if you succeed in bedding him first, will you wander through the castle with a sappy look on your face while I have to sleep alone in our room?"

The aloof look came over the eyes of the blonde. "You know the plan. She has to be first."

Silence held in the room for a couple of minutes.

"Well then, if you want to lose a few sickles, how about we make a little wager on who succeeds in bedding their target first. The little blond bird-with-brain, the broomstick riding redhead or the bushy haired mess?"

"You got five sickles to back up the disgustingly filthy mind of yours? If so, I pick . . ."

 **A/N**

 **One – The section above this (1) prompt was mostly from the Prologue, Chapter 1.**

 **Yes, I re-wrote parts of it to reflect the direction the story has gone since then.**

 **Two - Mils, not girly Millie. Memory from a story long**

 **ago in a story far, far away. If anyone can remember**

 **who wrote this idea, I would like to credit them.**

 **The middle section female meeting was part of the third chapter I wrote for this story,** **and was planned to be chapter 7 in my original outline, then morphed to around chapter 12. So, this is either eleven or six chapters late. (Hey, it was crying out to be written)**

 **The original form is the one-shot, "Granger, let's have a little talk," on my stories list.**

 **The last part will be in the next chapter.**

 **But "The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft a-gley." R. Burns.**

 **Never trust a manic, grinning hamster who seems to have infinite plot bunnies.**

 **And an undisciplined writer who listens to all those words screaming to be**

 **put on a laptop screen.**


	19. Chapter 19, The Wizengamot, Part 1

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 19

Standard disclaimer, JK Rowling owns all the rights,

I just play in her sandbox, etc., etc.

Wars can be won or lost in places other than a battlefield

 **A/N:**

 **There will NOT be a new chapter published in two weeks at the end of February.**

 **RL and a convention are upon me. Chapter 20 will be published about Mar. 15, 2019.**

 **Any seeming updates prior will be me attempting to correct and fix previous chapters.**

Wednesday, September 16, 1998

The second week of classes seemed to cause the NEWT and beyond NEWT's instructors to go crazy. Suddenly the homework was not being covered in class, the students were supposed to research the problem and devise answers. Even the regular NEWT students were finding themselves having to hunt through more reference books for an assignment then they were used to reading for a week's worth of homework.

Harry had met with Professor Vector and had received an explanation why she had let him take Enchanting despite his runes and arithmancy deficiencies. He figured if he studied his arse off, bought all the recommended books on the list she gave him, and had a tutor, he could eke out a pass in Enchanting. A further visit to Enchanter Broadsmore had gotten him a pair of thin books with "canned" standard arithmancy equations and standard rune chains for use by employees of second hand shops and the like to refresh older enchantments on items.

He came to understand why Broadsmore was trying hard to keep him in the class. Teaching The-Man-Who-Conquored and one of the first beyond NEWT classes at Hogwarts in decades, on top of being able to influence the post-NEWT curriculum at Hogwarts, was worth quite a bit of prestige in magical Britain.

Harry also found time to meet with McGonagall regarding the Hogwarts house elf over population situation and his need for elves. After twenty minutes of dickering, and a suitable contribution to the Hogwarts Mundaneborn Scholarship Program, Harry had permission to recruit three elves now and a further two in the future. A female with child raising experience briefly touched her hand to Harry's forehead before disappearing to be bonded to Andromeda. Kreacher was called and another young elf whom had just started his training was sent with him to Grimmauld Place after bonding with Harry. It took a few minutes longer for Grimp, the gardener elf, to go through the formal bonding process with Harry before disappearing off to Potter Manor to join Tilitsy.

It was late Wednesday afternoon when Hermione tracked down Harry in the common room. He was sitting talking with Neville, Ginny and Luna. _(Why did she keep seeing those two in the Eighth Year common room?)_ She hesitantly asked him to come with her back to their suite. She had him sit on the couch and handed him the second Greengrass book. He could see it had over a dozen scraps of parchment inserted as bookmarks.

"Harry," she said. "I need to return this book to Greengrass tonight. Would you take the time to read the parts of the book I've marked? I need you to at least have some idea what I am talking about when we find some time, SOON, to sit and discuss what Greengrass has brought to us. I may be wrong as to what I think I'm seeing, but if I am not, you have to have some understanding of where I'm coming from."

"We don't have an emergency, ( _yet,_ she thought) but there is a reason why she is approaching me. And I think we should find out why soon."

"Oh and by the way. I may be feeling paranoid, but would you come to the meeting with me?

Greengrass has been keeping a close eye on me when I'm away from our suite."

Harry did not even need to consider that request. He smiled.

"Of course. But if you are feeling paranoid, perhaps we will do some more practicing on getting your wand from that fancy wand holster I bought you to celebrate your professorship? I did not buy it for its looks."

And Harry kept smiling as their mutual awkwardness around each other had dissolved away.

An hour after dinner found Hermione again ensconced at the table in the disused fourth floor classroom. Since she figured she needed some type of an edge against the Greengrass/Davis duo, she had the house elf Finley bring a tray with tea and biscuits.

Right on time the two ex-Sytherins entered through the door, Daphne did her impressive locking and silencing charms, and the two sat down at the table.

Pouring tea, nibbling on biscuits and polite inquiries as to how classes were proceeding occupied several minutes until everyone knew the preliminaries were over.

The two young women politely looked at each other waiting to see who should speak first. Wordlessly, Hermione handed the book to Greengrass. Just as silently, Daphne placed it in her book bag.

"Oh for Merlin's sake you two," burst out Davis. "This is not a high level magical ambassadorial meeting where no one is going to say anything controversial or constructive."

Daphne's blazing blue glare should have lit Tracey's hair afire. "It's pretty damn close to being as important as ambassadors meeting to decide the fate of magical realms," she snapped off.

Hermione sat quietly. The occasional need for silence on her part had been sometimes brutally driven home over the last two years, but Greengrass' vehemence had surprised her.

Greengrass turned her attention back to Hermione and spoke in a calm controlled voice. "Before I hex my companion into oblivion, would you please tell me any conclusions you have drawn from the latest book?" Tracy just smirked.

Hermione had anticipated the question. She took a steadying breath. "All the Senior Secretaries are PureBloods, and all the Undersecretaries are PureBloods. A most visible observation is that every Department Head is a PureBlood. I see there are some Halfblood Senior Assistants to the Undersecretaries, but my notes from your other book show they are connected to powerful PureBlood families."

"And most damningly," she continued, "over half of them are new at their posts. They've taken over from senior government officials who mysteriously died at the same time Voldemort did. Others left their offices before they could be arrested as Death Eater sympathizers complicit in the shipments of Muggleborns to the death camps."

Hermione managed to frown and sound puzzled at the same time. "It is curious how they managed to become appointed to these high government positions, yet the Wizengamot has not had a session in over a year. Yes, most curious."

After a short pause, in a deceptively soft voice she said, "Outside of some of their children, I don't think one of those families shed any blood here at The Battle. They were not among those that came when we pleaded for help." Hermione was pleased she managed to get that last out without spitting.

"Congratulations, Granger, you've managed to stumble upon English wizard-kinds dirtiest little secret. We PureBloods run this country and though there may be a lot more of you, Halfbloods and Muggleborn do not. And never will. When you get too uppity or vociferous about your condition we merely shovel lots of galleons at some PureBlood bigot, give him Dark Lord status, and point him straight at the likes of you."

Shite. It was a trap. She had been setup and walked right into the ambush.

The listening Hermione was afraid to look at Greengrass. If that blond haired bitch had a smirk on her face, Hermione was going to end up in Azkaban for murder.

"Wonder if Shack can save me from being dementor kissed? "she thought.

The cool under pressure, combat honed Hermione Granger started to resurface after many months of being suppressed. She slowly raised her eyes off her notes and calmly looked at the other two girls. First she saw Davis with her wand in her hand pointing at her. Greengrass was being a little less obvious. Only her non-wand hand was showing above the table.

She was proud that she didn't have to swallow or lick her lips to speak.

Looking straight in Greengrass' eyes, she was looking for her tell. That twitch or whatever that would mean she was about to cast a spell. Unexpectedly, all she could see was uncertainty. Those dark blue trademark eyes didn't seem to have the look of someone trying to work up the nerve to kill her.

"So, this seems rather an elaborate trap to merely kill off an uppity Mudblood. Do you think that old custom that a PureBlood can kill a Muggleborn and only get a slap on the wrist because they were so crass as to get caught still applies these days?" Hermione had her plan already formulated. Push off from the table and tip the chair over backwards. Get her wand from its wrist holster, roll behind that broken table back of her left shoulder, and then . . .

Suddenly an evil little smile started on Hermione's lips. From somewhere had come the memory of some muggle western where three gunmen were staring at each other in a graveyard, hands near their guns, waiting to see who would move first. She could even hear the music.

Suddenly she could see fear in Greengrass' eyes. Got ya, bitch. Ready, set, g . . .

"Please, don't hex us with something Madam Pomfrey can't fix." Came the tumbled words from Greengrass' mouth. "Tracey, I've made a mistake. Carefully place your wand on the table. Granger, I'm going to leave my wand in my lap, bring my hand up slowly, and I'd like to have my arm still attached to my body when I put my hand on the table."

"Bloody hell, Daphne," Davis moaned. "She's gonna curse us into next fuckin' week." Her wand started to quiver.

"If you don't put that wand down, you just made a prophecy, Davis," came the response from the other side of the table. "I might just hex you with the _Lavium Mus_ (1) anyway."

It took a second for Davis to process what she had heard. Her eyes grew round. "You wouldn't!" she squealed. And got a raised eyebrow in return.

Suddenly Hermione twitched her arm and a wand appeared pointed right between the two girls. It had appeared so fast it was like . . . magic.

"Merlin," thought Daphne, "no one should be that fast." Tracey's wand clattered as she dropped it on the table, and Daphne slowly brought her empty hand up.

The non-verbal _Accio_ _wands_ that had both girls wands flying into Hermione's left hand raised the tension across from Hermione even higher. "Humpf." She thought idly. "Maybe I could have been a Seeker."

Daphne had never seen brown ice before. But Hermione's eyes had become cold, cold. And her huge evil smile of intent to do bodily harm would have done a shark proud

"Now, this Muggleborn witch is going to get some answers or you will become very, very uncomfortable in your own skins. Let us begin." And impossibly, her smile got even larger.

It was over half an hour later that two exhausted girls left the room. They didn't have to remove the locking and silencing charms. Hermione had already done that with a wave of her wand and an incantation that neither heard. Again, it had been a difficult bit of non-verbal spell work that would be the final impression that the two departing witches would carry away with them.

As soon as they closed the door, an even more secure set of locking and silencing charms were raised not just on the door, but on every wall, the floor and ceiling.

"That went well," she said into the apparently empty room.

"Merlin and Morgana, Hermione" came the voice of an invisible Harry about twelve feet from the backs of the chairs Daphne and Tracy had been sitting in.

He continued as he removed his invisibility cloak and folded it away. "Just where have you been hiding that inner Alpha bitch? For a moment I thought they were going to pee themselves. You do know you're scary sometimes? Brilliant, but scary". (2)

Hermione's return smile had the cutest dimples. "Why Harry Potter, you say the nicest things".

She then batted her eyelashes at Harry who gusted out a laugh and plopped himself down in the chair across from Hermione.

He sobered quickly.

"If that information Greengrass spilled about how the Wizengamot is shaking out in opposition is true, how has it slipped by Narcissa and Andromeda?"

"Do we need more information either by starting talks with Greengrass or cultivating other informants?" he continued. "Wonder how much they already know? We have less than a week and a half before my investitures before the Wizengamot"

Harry drummed his fingers on the table, deep in thought.

"I get why you wanted me to read the Who's Who of the Ministry book," he said, changing topics. "And Greengrass' explanations were . . informative. So, what was in the first book you read that Greengrass loaned you?"

Hermione expanded on her short explanation from earlier in the other day. It was during this talk she suddenly realized that among the missing family information were the Potter and Black families.

"Oooh, that bint," she nearly screamed. "I'm going to rip every perfect blonde hair right off her skull and force feed it to her."

The turnabout shocked Harry. But still he said the first thing that popped into his mind. "And just when you two were becoming such _good_ friends." Hermione's glare was smoking, but Harry had been glared at before. He continued in a patient voice that made her want to start ripping _his_ hair out. "What set that off?"

Gritting her teeth Hermione explained about the missing Potter and Black family incomes and alliances in the book. And how she had just realized they were missing and she now knew nothing about the two families.

Harry's reaction stunned Hermione. He started chuckling, then laughing, finally roaring with laughter. Hermoine's reaction to Harry was first puzzlement, then her face started to flush and when he started holding his sides in pain she was about to hex him.

Painfully.

Seeing her purpling face, Harry managed to gasp out, "But Hermione, we have all . . . that information . . . from Gringott's . . . down in my room."

Hermione closed her eyes, visibly counted to ten, carefully put her wand down and started thumping her head on the tabletop.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The second week of classes rolled on. It was only Friday night, but Hermione was really hitting her stride as reading the books she had gotten from Greengrass had seriously cut into her revising. Harry had to literally drag her from their suite to the common room. Harry had rather forcefully explained to her it was too early for her to be isolating herself from her class mates.

"Hermione," he had said. "You have to put some effort into being a social person. Merlin knows that we spent most of last year with almost no contact with other people. And when we did run into other people, it usually led to curses flying everywhere."

Hermione had opened her mouth to argue back when Harry placed his fore finger on her lips. "Hermione, remember, there is a reason why many of the tables are larger than the other common rooms, and why there are little quiet alcoves along the walls. We even have a library almost as large as Ravenclaw House. We agreed that this room was supposed to be an attractive alternative so people would interact with other Eights instead of traipsing off to the library with their old house friends."

His eyes became concerned as he looked into the tired looking eyes of his friend. "You seem to have already forgotten all the plans we made this summer, our house mates that we were going to become social with. Remember them?"

She just stared at Harry for a few moments. "But Harry," she finally blurted. "There's so much we need to talk about. Those books from Greengrass, your Wizengamot investiture and your claims on all those families. We have to plan!" The last four words almost made Harry grin because Hermione was trying to scream at him just above a whisper.

"Plan what?" Harry said. "We have sent messages off to Andromeda and Narcissa about the revelations from Greengrass. We have to wait for their reply. We have our robes for the investiture. We have everyone onboard who knows the plan as to what is going to happen during the Right of Conquest debate that _will_ occur."

He continued. "What happened to the Bad to the Bone Alpha Bitch who was in that room two nights ago? Where is the witch who is going to back Rita Skeeter into a corner Monday night and offer her the interview of her career? What happened to the Know-It-All witch who is going to tell me what I am going to do with the rooms from the Philosopher's Stone quest?"

The last _non sequitur_ had Hermione changing from pissed off to goggling at him like a landed fish in a heartbeat.

"Wha . . ? she gasped.

Harry just kept rolling on. "We have a whole series of secret rooms in the castle that almost no one knows about. Why shouldn't we turn the series of rooms under Fluffy's trap door into an Animal House party central? If not that, then I suppose I can turn them into a final exam test for either my second or fifth year DADA practical class."

Harry from his grin and the spaced out look in his eyes had apparently entered a Happy Place. "Can you imagine, Hermione. We could put a classic British mundane pub down there. Complete with tables, chairs, booths, a bar and a games room. Can you see trying to teach darts to Ernie or Luna? What about teaching how to shoot pool to Corner or Bones?"

"And can you imagine getting Greengrass or A.T. to play Foosball?" Apparently Harry found the image funny as he started to chortle with his grin expanding on his face.

"Harry, I do not believe that giving this . . this . . bunch any more distractions during this school term is a good idea."

"No, Hermione, it's a great idea." Harry said with ever increasing enthusiasm. "Could you break out your note pad and pen?"

While obviously thinking he was deranged, Hermione was digging the requested items from her bag and sitting at a table while Harry looked around and walked around the room to Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, Greengrass, Padma and Finch-Fletchley, got their attention and sent them over to Hermione.

"Thank you for joining us here." started Harry. "This is a preliminary meeting of the committee on stress release and relaxation during a NEWT year at Hogwarts."

"First question. Have you been to a pub for recreation, drinks or food?" The three men and Hermione nodded in the affirmative, the two PureBlood women both said no.

"Next, which NEWT classes have an end of school year project for your final grade?

Turned out Runes, Arithmancy, Transfiguration, and Charms all had a project that was worth about half of the class grade for the year.

"If this works out the way I am thinking, I'll get Instructor Ardenville to give us a year end project for BP&EM also," Harry contributed.

"Here is what I want to do. We have a large space nearby that with some work we could turn into a copy of an English pub. We would offer mundane drinks like beer, ale or fizzy sodas. For those with wizard tastes we could have fire whiskey, butterbeer, or gilly water. Pub grub could come from our kitchen that we already have if we keep the menu simple.

We would put in some games like darts, pool, and foosball. Maybe one of the Runes or Charms projects could be to ward a room so that we could bring in pinball and computer type games. Or maybe create another room where we could play DVD movies on the weekend with popcorn and fizzies."

By now Hermione was not the only person considering him deranged.

"And the last part is that we run this entertainment pub just like a business so I can get a BP&EM end of year project from it all. AND to top it all, we use only mundane money in the pub. That will get some of the PureBlood's knickers in a twist but if they want to have some fun in the castle, they will have to play by our rules"

"This will be great!" he beamed at the assembled group.

"PureBlood with knickers here Potter. Would you like to see what happens if I feel them twisting?" came the flat voice of the Ice Queen.

"Er, not really," came the suddenly subdued voice from Harry.

"However," he said brightening. "Would you not like to have something else to do besides go to Hogsmeade? Let's face facts. It is nice that as adults we have been given permission to leave the castle whenever we want. But, how many years have we been going to the small village of Hogsmeade? I mean really. What is there to do there that we have not done dozens of times before?"

Harry turned to his co-professor. "Hermione, can you see how this would fit into your Mundane Studies classes? Except this would be for the older students, say fourth year and above. McGonagall could not get those prune-faced, PureBlood governors to expand your ideas into all years, but this will."

"Are you serious Harry?" came the awed brogue of Seamus from the other end of the table. "A place to hoist a pint with our mates and check on the local birds? Here, in the castle? Where's the troll I have to arm wrestle to get in?"

Harry walked over and draped an arm around Seamus' shoulders.

"First," he said, "You figure a way to bribe the Magnificent Seven and the Fabulous Five to do the heavy transfiguration and charms work. Then you persuade the leader of the group to bring you aboard as a consultant."

Harry started to turn away, then stopped.

"You will also have to prove you are not a stereotypical Irish drunk. Talk about your drunken actions down at The Three Broomsticks last weekend has spread far. I really suggest you make your appointment with the Mind Healer next Monday night. Imagine being banned from a pub before it's even built."

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Saturday morning was a date that had come to be very special for Harry. He really did not believe he could be a planner for a party, but a few words to Padma and Susan earlier in the week had the desired effect. Harry had grabbed Hermione for an early breakfast, followed by a quick trip to Hagrid's rebuilt hut. When she started objecting that she needed to be studying, he had strenuously followed up on yesterday's argument that she needed some time away from books and research because she was regressing back into her third year again.

She had stood silently staring into his eyes for a long time after that statement. She was surprised how much the last comment hurt, but how could she tell him that if she didn't keep her brain occupied, it insisted on thinking about him. She was hopelessly crushing on her best friend, and he did not return the emotion.

After a while, Harry started fidgeting nervously. "Hermione, it's been weeks since we really talked to Hagrid. Do you not think we should keep our friendships active? Or is Hagrid becoming another person we can't make time for?"

That last low blow had been the convincer to get her sitting around Hagrid's enormous table.

He showed the pair his new wand. "Who'd a thought it," he said. "Minister Shacklebolt himself told Percy to look into me bein' expelled from Hogwarts. When Percy discovered me bein' accused o' lettin' Slytherin's Monster loose was all a frame-up by Tom Riddle, he got me record cleared."

There were tears in his eyes as he pulled an enormous wand out of a pocket somewhere and showed it to them.

"I got it from Ollivander jus' two weeks ago. Custom made that is. Unicorn hair and white oak, twenty-five and a half inches long. The old man said it would be good for healing animals yet strong enough to smack 'em one if they get a bit too frisky."

After some more talk, Harry escorted Hermione back to the Eights Head of House suite saying that she had fulfilled her social duty for the day and could resume her studies.

"Let's see if we missed anything," Harry said as they passed the Eights common room door. He opened the door and ushered her in.

"SURPRISE! Happy Birthday, Hermione!"

Almost all the Eighth Years shouted exuberantly. Harry was there to stop her arm from reflexively snatching her wand and instinctively cursing everything in sight. It took less than a second for her brain to recognize the blast of noise was not a threat.

Once Hermione had regained her equilibrium from her surprise, she turned to Harry with a thousand questions in her eyes.

He just gave her his usual slanted small grin and said, "You have never had a birthday party here at Hogwarts despite eight birthdays. I had to set something up as this was my absolute last chance to get everyone to show our appreciation of you."

He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "And to show you again how much your 'Saving Harry Thing' is appreciated."

With tears in her eyes, she wrapped Harry in a strength nine Hermy Hug. She did not say a word. To Harry, she did not have to. Releasing Harry she turned back to the crowd of whistling cheering Eights.

Wiping a stray happy tear from her cheek, she then proceeded to ask in a loud voice, "This is a party, right?" At several shouted affirmatives from the crowd, she then continued, "Then why do I not have a piece of cake in one hand and a butterbeer in the other?"

The question lead to a large cheer and her lack of cake and butterbeer was swiftly remedied. She was lead to an elevated chair where the birthday girl received best wishes from all the other Eights and a fair pile of presents.

Hermione received the usual array of books and sweets from her casual acquaintances. Ron gave her a book on historical magical castles, Harry gave her a set of combs for her hair. She was somewhat surprised by the last present in the pile. She had left it until last because she thought it had been Harry's present.

After carefully removing the paper from a rectangular box, she was puzzled to see a necklace with a pendant laid inside. She started to reach for the chain when quiet a voice in her ear froze her arm.

"Do not touch that necklace, Granger," came the by now well-known voice of Daphne Greengrass from behind her ear. "Now check the card to see whom has given you such a nice birthday present."

Hermione changed the direction of her fingers and plucked a snow white glossy card from the box. The card had a silver, red and black crest embossed upon it with the name Kevin J. Entwhistle printed elegantly below the crest.

"Now," said Greengrass' voice very softly, but very clearly in her ear. "Smile slightly, keep the card, and slowly, carefully close the box, reread the card and place it in a pocket and add the box to your present pile."

Hermione had a dozen thoughts flashing through her mind. Resentment at Greengrass, curiosity about Entwhistle, (whom with outside of some small talk at Potter manor during the Right of Conquest meetings, she had not traded two dozen words with) why the expensive present, why the hell had Greengrass stopped her from touching the necklace, what in hell was going on here?

In spite of her confusion, she complied with that soft Greengrass voice. She also saw several of her classmates giving each other significant looks as though something of import had just occurred.

As the necklace had been the last present, everyone eagerly gathered at the table with the cake and butterbeer. After another half-hour Hermione left for her suite blaming her heavy work load as she would be missing from classes on Monday due to Harry's investiture in the Wizengamot. Harry, and surprisingly, Daphne said they would help her carry her birthday booty to her room.

The three of them had deposited Hermione's presents in her room and were in the suite's common room when Hermione finally could contain herself no longer.

With her hands on her hips and in an exasperated tone of voice, she demanded, "Greengrass, would you explain just what happened with that necklace that had you all protective of me in there?"

Daphne stared calmly at the upset witch. She then walked over to the left hand chair in front of the fireplace and gestured the other two to sit on the couch.

Daphne started. "While we were in your tent during the summer, I noticed the two of you left on several Sunday's dressed in formal and semi-formal wizard robes. And upon your return, you would both looked as if a hippogryph (3) had run you over."

With a faint smile she continued. "You reminded me of Astoria and myself while our mother was giving us wizarding culture and deportment lessons. Am I correct?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged a long look before returning their attention to the blonde.

"Yes we were taking lessons from Madam Narcissa Black on wizarding deportment and customs," said Harry.

"I see," Daphne replied. "That is good. You certainly need them."

That comment earned her a glare from Hermione.

"Tell me," she continued. "Has she explained Intent of Courting gifts yet?"

Harry and Hermione again traded looks.

"No," Hermione replied.

"Very well. This has now become a deportment and history lesson." Daphne said, settling back in her chair and smiling.

"For centuries, PureBloods and powerful but Halfblood families in wizarding Britain have often arranged contractual marriages. However, many families believe in giving their male children a chance at marrying for love. Since `dating' was, and is, frowned upon amongst the `old blood' families due to their belief that unscrupulous girls could ensnare there precious sons, another form was instituted. A male offspring could present a suitable female with a suitable gift that declared his intent to court said suitable female. If said female found the male to be suitable, she would publically accept the gift and the two of them would proceed to act as an exclusive couple until either a betrothal was announced or one of the suitable pair found the other person to be unsuitable."

"Understand?" she finished.

Hermione was uncharacteristically still working her way through Daphne's explanation. Harry had caught on to the gist of the explanation and had rapidly flushed tomato red, but now his face had turned chalk white. The day he had dreaded for years had come to pass. Someone had looked beyond the surface and wanted his friend, his _best_ friend in the world, in the way that deep down he knew he wanted her.

Just as he was desperately trying to avoid looking into those beautiful chocolate brown eyes so she would not see how his heart was splintering, Hermione exploded.

"You mean that wanker just publically proclaimed that he wants me to be his girlfriend?" she shrieked. "He hasn't talked to me at all! Isn't he supposed to at least try for a couple of study dates before asking me out? And further more . . .!"

Her rant continued for another minute and ceased only when Daphne's voice cut across hers.

"Enough, Granger. We understand he has offended your muggl . . Mundaneborn sensibilities. Now give it a rest. You sound just like a PureBlood raving about how some ignorant Mudblood had just insulted her."

The look of shock on Hermione's face was not faked. Her mouth was opening and closing but no sounds were emerging.

Daphne carried on. "Entwhistle is a PureBlood, yes. But his family are not fanatics about it and as a whole are not known as Blood Supremacists He has probably lead a sheltered existence and been told all his life to be wary of female entanglements due to his position in his family."

Daphne's face morphed from concentration on Hermione to her eyes losing focus as she turned inward to her thoughts. "My only question is has he done this on his own or has his father instructed him to give you an Intent Gift as an attempt to scoop up the brightest, most powerful witch of our age for his own House?"

By now the shock had disappeared from Hermione's face, replaced by confusion.

"Why would they want to sully their bloodline with a Mundaneborn? I mean, we just fought a war that revolved around blood purity."

"As I said, Granger. The Entwhistle family is not a blood purity supporter. I would wager they are looking at it, shall we say more _pragmatically."_

The look on Hermione's face still indicated her confusion. "Why didn't he try to be more forward during the building of the dormitory? He was here a couple of times for the Quidditch pitch repair, and I traded social chit chat with him at Pott. . ."

"Hermione!" Harry barked.

Startled she looked at Harry and it took a second before what she had almost said registered with her. She immediately tried to cover her lapse by saying, " I mean, he could have offered a trip to The Three Broomsticks as a date or something," she trailed off lamely.

"Then that perhaps is an indication that it was _after_ singing praises to your intelligence, power and beauty to his Head of House that he was given permission or was told to plan some way to court you," Daphne replied. Her mouth was on auto-point-me, but her brain was wondering what secret Granger had almost spilled.

Hermione returned to doing her confused silent mouth movements again.

Daphne found herself truly wishing Tracey was here to see the concussed version of Hermione Granger that was in front of her. The magical and verbal spanking the powerful witch had delivered to the pair of them a couple of nights ago still stung a bit, although it had been planned that way. Daphne needed a means to get close to Potter, and `allowing' Granger to pry important information loose from her, was how she was starting. She wanted him to feel that she, Daphne, possibly had something he needed. If she had known he had been less than fifteen feet from her in that room, she would have been mortified, believing she had been out-Slytherin'd and her plans had just taken a severe bludger hit.

Meanwhile, Daphne was stamping upon her rising peevishness with Granger. The witch was acting as though she was fourteen and her first crush had suddenly noticed her. Was she truly that socially backward? Her discrete spying on Granger over the years had shown only the red headed garbage inhaler as a serious temporary boyfriend. Even after the Tri-Wizard Tournament Yule Ball where Hermione had been the spectacularly pretty date of the Bulgarian Bon-Bon Victor Krum, nothing had developed from that relationship and no others seemed to occur. So-o-o, maybe?

Daphne let out her breath in a large huff. "It is however possible that Entwhistle is just as inept as you are at developing relationships. He possibly has been so sheltered that he is scared to try some other method of formally meeting you, because he has never tried to meet an attractive, powerful witch in what _you_ would consider normal fashion. He thinks like Jane Austen and you want Judy Blume."

After a moment, Daphne spoke on. "My advice is for you to be pleasant to Entwhistle in public. Do not commit to anything. Stall a decision for three or four days."

Daphne rose from her chair and started towards the door. She stopped and turned just before it and looking right at Harry said, "Oh, two more things. Do try to keep Professor Potter here from trying to glare holes through the poor young man while you are making up your mind." "And check the necklace to make sure there are no charms or curses on it."

The blonde turned and headed for the door. "Until tomorrow."

With the last, a smirking Greengrass opened and walked through the door, closing it behind her. She strode away quickly, as she now had letters to write and she wanted answers by tomorrow.

 **A/N**

 **One - Wash mouth.**

 **Two - Line was not in the books, but from the movie, HP &SS or PS if you prefer.**

 **Three – My American Heritage Dictionary, Second College Edition says I can spell it**

 **this way. So, I did.**

 **The Intent Gift Plot Bunny hopped into the chapter out of nowhere. Other authors**

 **have done the trope better. (Seselt in the marvelous story Six Pomegranate Seeds)**

 **among others.**


	20. Chapter 20, The Wizengamot, Dirty plots

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 20

Standard Disclaimer Redux.

I get nothing from writing this. It all belongs to JK Rowling,

and all those other companies that made a fortune off her books and characters.

To the Wizengamot we go.

For politics and dirty tricks, heigh ho.

Heigh ho, heigh ho.

Sunday September 20, 1998

Harry and Hermione had received permission to activate their floo connection in their suite for their trip from their quarters to 12 Grimmauld Place late Sunday morning.

With his usual grace upon exiting from the floo, Harry managed to come flying airborne out of the fireplace and knock over a maroon and crème coloured couch. Lying on the back of the now tipped over couch, Harry dazedly looked up into the disapproving eyes of Narcissa Black.

Harry immediately figured that his floo clumsiness was going to cost him at least an extra hour in Lord Potter-Black deportment lessons.

It had been four weeks since Harry and Hermione's last visit to Sirius' old house. The look and feel of the house had been slowly changing during Harry's deportment visits, but this last transformation was striking.

With the sisters and Teddy living in the house it certainly was a much brighter, more welcoming place then they had ever seen. Both of them profusely complimented Andi and Narcissa on their achievement. They in turn had politely inquired as to how Harry had managed to completely change Kreacher's attitude, especially with him allowing a new elf in for training.

"We found a way to finish a task that Regulus Black had set for Kreacher that Kreacher could not do. Our best guess is that being able to finish Master Regulus' task, made him quit brooding and maybe made him a little more sane?" was Harry's reply.

Harry's purple Wizengamot robes were soon fitted and double checked by Narcissa. Her expert wand work soon took care of any noticeable, possibly noticeable and not noticeable by anyone else, defects.

After a light lunch served in the formal family dining room by Kreacher, the group retired to the Lord Black study. Harry sat behind the desk and attempted to run the meeting as though he was the person controlling it.

The Black sisters reported on the Ministry's senior Secretaries use of power politics, extortion, and some strong arm tactics to keep their positions atop the bureaucracy. Hermione was able to use some of those prodigious notes from the Greengrass books to shed some light on the hidden alliances that the Secretaries had with some Wizengamot members. Some of the `secret' alliances were known to them and some of Harry's allies, but others were eye opening to Narcissa who thought she knew every alliance, and most of the dirty little secrets in the Ministry.

Minister Shacklebolt was coming increasingly under attack. Many Ministry employees were very quietly reporting that threats were being made about job terminations of those who were Shacklebolt supporters, because he would be voted out during the next Wizengamot session.

Narcissa's sources had informed her that Tuesday would be the day of the No Confidence ambush. As it was supposed to be a surprise, Lord Potter-Black had to strike first by bringing the Notice of Debate in front of the Wizengamot on Monday as soon as the floor was opened for new business to be brought before the members. That should get the Right of Conquest debate sorted before Kingsley could be crippled by a close No Confidence vote.

The Black sisters did not think the PureBlood supremacists actually had the votes to remove Kingsley from office, but a close vote would make wavering Wizengamot members more susceptible to pressure the next time supremacists brought a vote up. No one wanted to be on the losing side in a vicious, no-holds-barred political battle against people who believed that the permanent `removal' of political obstacles by an AK was the victims fault for having picked the wrong side.

Harry and Hermione preferred to believe that when, not if, they got the Wizengamot to acquiesce to Harry's Right of Conquest, Lord Potter-Black would thereafter control enough votes to trounce any No Confidence votes in the foreseeable future.

The planning session lasted until early evening when Andromeda left to put Teddy to bed for the night. Harry and Hermione stayed talking for a while, then followed Narcissa's advice and took a Calming Draught before bed to help their sleep.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The Black household was up early Monday. After a light breakfast was served by Kreacher, that Harry had to practically choke down due to his nerves, everyone retired to their rooms to prepare. The Wizengamot Autumnal Equinox session was scheduled to start at ten o'clock. Everyone in the party was dressed in the finest robes galleons could buy. Black with silver trim, woven of demiguise hair, acromantula silk and silver thread. Accented with jeweled silver and platinum clasps. The Potter and Black House crests woven onto the upper left chest area. The shimmering wash of black and silver, with the red and gold highlights of the family crests, was the most understated, yet attention grabbing set of robes Harry had ever seen.

Andromeda and Narcissa were there as the Potter and Black proxies. Their robes had only one crest each. This would actually be the first time for Narcissa to sit in the Black Wizengamot seat. Previously she had only been meeting people in `Lord Black's' name. Speculation had been running rife for months as to whom she had been representing, but only those that Harry had dealt with on the Right of Conquest families knew. And Andromeda and Narcissa had not picked up on any specific information as to the identity of the new Lord Black. Rumours and guesses, yes, solid information, none.

They would start the session in their proxy seats and then leave them at the investiture of Lord Potter-Black who would then be seated in their stead. It was easy to see the three of them shouted wealth. Even Hermione was extremely well dressed, although she would be in the `special' spectator area. If Harry needed to meet with her for whatever reason, her clothes had to proclaim `status' so she would be allowed into his presence.

At twenty after nine, the Potter-Black family group gathered at the floo. With a clearly spoken `Ministry of Magic' first Andromeda, then Narcissa, followed by Hermione walked into the green flames. Harry waited his Black Sisters mandated ten count before tossing his floo powder into the flames, speaking `Ministry of Magic' before whirling away.

Harry tried. He really did.

Using all the drill and practice Narcissa had set for him, he stepped out of the Ministry floo just as his whirling stopped. And promptly tripped over an invisible crack somewhere and was about to dive head long across the floor when he was caught by a wordless levitation charm cast by Hermione. Given a second to orient himself and get his feet back beneath him, Harry managed to gracefully deposit himself onto the floo hearth. A quick ash removal spell from Narcissa, and Lord Potter (with his Lord Black crest disillusioned on his traveling cloak) appeared to confidently stride away from the row of Ministry floo's.

"Thank you, Hermione, Madam Black," he said as the group strode down the hall towards the members entrance to the Wizengamot area. Narcissa returned a small smirk in reply. Harry internally grimaced. His floo travel reputation was why he had been told in no uncertain terms to wait for ten seconds stepping into the Grimmauld Place floo.

"Sod it. Are those two ever wrong?" he grumped reflectively.

The Ministry's halls were not badly crowded yet as they had arrived a bit early to avoid the press and those who would want "just a moment" of Lord Potter's time. The group was led by Andromeda and Narcissa with Harry following in Andi's wake, and Hermione following Aunt Narcissa. The formation was designed to clear a path for Harry, yet keep him from seeming too close to Narcissa Black, the proxy for House Black. Harry was still befuddled that the new Lord Black was still semi-secret in wizarding Britain. Surely someone should have trumpeted his name to the Daily Prophet, which would have meant a press and WWN feeding frenzy today.

Andromeda led them on to a Wizengamot members only elevator that went backwards, sideways and down, finally came to a stop on the eighth level. Harry was grateful they stopped there as he had been to the tenth level courtroom three times now and none of the trips would make his favorite memories collection. She marched them down several hallways and half a dozen turns before stopping before a highly polished dark walnut wood door that bore the Potter crest. After showing the teens how to attune the door so it would open to their magical signature, she gestured the two teens to enter.

"I am going with my sister down the hall to the Black Family offices. I will be back within ten minutes." She gestured at a stocked sideboard table. "Eat some snack and get something to drink. Work on settling your nerves."

She then closed the door.

After removing their traveling cloaks, Harry looked around the House Potter Wizengamot office. It appeared to be about twenty by thirty feet. The room was equipped with a bar and stools and a snack filled sideboard to the right. In front of Harry was a large desk with four leather covered armchairs facing it. On the left were two doors roughly in the middle of the wall with a nice statue of some woman carrying an urn on her shoulder. Closer to the door they had entered from was a small conversation area with a pair of large dark brown leather covered couches with end tables, a pair of leather covered chairs and a low table.

The room was paneled in dark walnut and dark oak trimmed with red alder and some unidentifiable almost white wood. Harry stepped over to and opened the door closest to him

" _Hmm. Water closet. Fancy though."_

The further door opened into a large walk-in closet/changing room. _"Convenient."_

Harry re-entered the main office to see Hermione pouring tea. He took the proffered cup and started for the conversation area.

"No, Harry," said Hermione. "Sit behind the desk. Best you get in the habit early. You will have very few equals meeting you here or as Lord Black."

The pair sat sipping tea, nibbling on small cakes and biscuits and making desultory conversation about the upcoming session. Harry had been drilled relentlessly by Andromeda and Narcissa as what to say and when to say it. Even Hermione the `ever wanting just one more contingency plan' person had decided against any last minute changes.

The rapid triple knock on the door startled both of them. With a puzzled look, Hermione rose an opened the door and could hardly contain her shock. Standing there was exquisitely black robed Daphne Greengrass. Though now that Hermione could understand wizarding world crests and badges, she realized that that it was Heiress Greengrass standing at the door.

"Heiress Greengrass," she said after a moment. "May I help you?"

"May I enter, Miss Granger? I want to give my best wishes to the soon to be installed Lord Potter."

Hermione turned to look over her shoulder at Harry who gave her the let her in gesture.

"Thank you," she replied as she glided in, aiming for a chair to Harry's right in front of the desk as Hermione busied herself with a cup of tea for Greengrass _("Thank you, Miss Granger.")_ before returned to her chair on his left side.

Suddenly Hermione saw Greengrass' face twitch. She had seen something. _("Oh, Merlin! Harry's robe has_ _both_ _crests showing!")._ For a brief moment, Hermione thought they were going to have to keep Greengrass prisoner in the office to keep her from disclosing their secret.

"Lord Potter."

"Heiress Greengrass. Might I inquire as to what brings you here today? Here that is, as in to this office?"

"I am, shall we say, an emissary? An emissary with a familiar face, from the Ancient House of Greengrass to Lord Potter. My father is interested in talking with you to see if our House and your Lordship might have some common ground on legislation that will be brought forward during this session."

Harry just sat, staring at Greengrass. Hermione was trying to climb down from her panic adrenalin spike as her logical side kicked in and she realized that the Lord Potter-Black secret was about to go public in less than an hour anyway.

Greengrass unflappably raised her teacup and took a sip. Harry was opening his mouth to speak when with a double knock, the door opened to admit Andromeda Tonks. She came across the room obviously looking hard at the interloper rising from her chair.

Harry made the introductions.

"Madam Tonks nee Black, Proxy of House Potter to the Wizengamot, may I introduce Heiress Daphne Greengrass, House Greengrass."

He continued, "Heiress Greengrass, may I introduce Madam Andromeda Tonks nee Black, Proxy of House Potter to the Wizengamot."

Being the junior, Daphne gave a medium curtsy, while Andromeda gave a head nod. As the ladies went to sit, Hermione's offer of tea to Andromeda was refused.

"As I was about to say, Heiress Greengrass. Kindly have Lord Greengrass contact Madam Tonks as to a time and agenda. As you know, due to my schooling commitments, my time available for politics is severely limited."

"Thank you Lord Potter. I shall inform Lord Greengrass. May I make myself useful as a guide for Miss Granger to the Preferred Spectator section for todays' meeting? That way she will be able to report that I only informed my Lord of your answer and did not speak to others about your _Houses_ secrets," said Daphne with a pointed look at the crests on his robe.

Harry fought his embarrassment blush at having been caught at accidently giving away his Lord Black secret in such a simplistic way. With a sigh, he looked at Hermione. She nodded back and walked over to the door and followed Greengrass out into the hall..

Hermione and Daphne walked down the hall, around two corners and Greengrass knocked twice on a door and after checking the way was clear, she opened the door and motioned Hermione through.

The tall, handsome, sandy haired man behind a parchment covered desk rose as Hermione entered.

"Lord Greengrass," Daphne said. "May I present Order of Merlin Designate, Miss Hermione Granger. Miss Granger is Co-Head of House for the Eighth Year students at Hogwarts and is a close friend and confidant of Lord Potter. Miss Granger, this is my father, Lord Greengrass."

Greengrass senior offered Hermione his hand across the desk. "Welcome Miss Granger. I am always pleased to meet my daughter's classmates and acquaintances. I believe she has possibly mentioned your name more than any other non-Slytherin student over the past seven years."

Hermione flushed slightly but successfully fought her instinct to look at Daphne. Daphne was , on the other hand, glaring daggers-of-death at her father. She could also see the glee lurking in the depths of his eyes that he had successfully embarrassed his daughter.

"My Lord, I have come by to inform you I was successful in speaking with Lord Potter. He requests you contact the House Potter Proxy, Andromeda Tonks, to arrange a meeting time and place."

"I thank you daughter for your effort. It is nearly time. Is there anything else?" he queried.

"No, My Lord. I am escorting Miss Granger to the Preferred Spectator section as a favor to Lord Potter. I will return here after the session."

"It was a pleasure to meet you Lord Greengrass," Hermione blurted as she hurriedly curtseyed to Lord Greengrass as Daphne quickly turned and motioned Hermione to follow. They left the office and after a labyrinth of halls and corners, they finished at a small balcony that had a clear view of the Wizengamot's seating area and the floor of the tiered bowl where the Chief Witch and various recorders, assistants and important flunkies sat. They were the first persons to arrive and with a choice of seating, Daphne guided Hermione into the back row on the far right side.

"If you are going to sit in this area, I have discovered that this corner is the most private. In these seats you can actually get away with a tiny bit of impropriety if you are careful. Granger, you do not know how lucky you are at the moment. And how soon that luck is going to go away."

At Hermione's quizzical look, Daphne expanded. "Soon, to look the part, you are going to have to start wearing high heels with your dress robes during 'Mot sessions. And then, your feet will end up killing you just as mine are from having played messenger Heiress all morning."

Suiting her words to action, Daphne proceeded to reach down and loosen her four-inch tall heels. "Remember not to take then off completely. Your foot may swell, not allowing you to put the shoe back on. And using re-sizing magic in public is considered very gauche."

Hermione nodded wisely at the blonde's advice. And kept nodding slightly as Greengrass continued to make small, sometimes informative, talk. In the meantime her brain was working so hard it threatened to spill out of control.

Why was Greengrass suddenly being so informative?

Why had she not informed her father that Harry was about to become Lord Potter-Black?

And most puzzling of all, why was she suddenly being friendly with a Mudb . . Mundaneborn here at the Ministry and in public? Particularly a Mundaneborn who had delivered an ego bruising beat down on her and her friend only days ago. Andi, and particularly Narcissa, both claimed the Ministry was a larger, faster, more intense gossip mill than Hogwarts. Hermione actually snorted aloud when she tried to consider anything faster than the speed of light Hogwarts gossip system.

The snort of humor drew Greengrass' attention.

"Oh, you find the seating of the factions and who to look at if you want to see how serious they are about some legislation that day humorous?" the Ice Queen mask inquired.

Hermione cursed herself for falling into her self-absorption when she was supposed to be paying attention. Greengrass had been informing her about some of the very things Narcissa had outright told her she had to learn. Her eyes started watering as she berated herself for failing Harry. Failing again.

"For Merlin's sake Granger! Pull yourself together!" came a furious whisper in her left ear. "If a reporter sees you breaking down up here it will make the front page of the Prophet! And if that happens, you might as well flush down the toilet any dreams you had about becoming some `Savior of the Creatures' legislation advocate! Obviously Muggleborns don't have the intestinal fortitude to attempt to guide wizard-kind!"

Hermione started to become cognizant of the world around her again. Half a dozen other spectators were seated in the small balcony now. And others were standing , gossiping at the balcony's entrance. The press was starting to fill their balcony off to her left. Fortunately, none seemed to be looking her way at the moment. She quickly pulled a handkerchief from her robes and proceeded to daintily dab at her eyes as though a spec of dirt had gotten in one.

Daphne was actually impressed. She watched as Granger went from having some depressed weepy fit to a composed young witch dabbing at a stray eyelash in about two finger snaps.

"I th . . . " small throat clearing, "Thank you . . Heiress Greengrass for . . your aid and help for one who is unpracticed in being `on stage' at all times. And the rest of your aid in not making me seem to be a lost buffoon in getting here will not go unremarked by House Potter-Black."

And with those two sentences, Hermione Granger sat tall and composed in her seat, looking at the Wizengamot members filling in the seating across from her.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Harry was standing as the last wizard in a six deep queue. Due to the war, his was not the only investiture being performed today. Four were heirs to minor Noble Houses who had quite sensibly stayed abroad, hidden or had not claimed their Lordship during Riddle's reign. The fifth was of sufficiently illustrious lineage as to be standing before Harry.

Regent Susan Bones could not claim a Lordship, but she was going to claim the voting rights for the Ancient and Most Noble House of Bones today.

Being the only claimant to a Most Ancient and Most Noble House, he would be the last heir introduced. And then when he added the claim to another Most Ancient and Most Noble House Lordship, watching the sheep bleat as a dragon flew in would truly be entertaining. At least that was what he was telling his singing nerves.

A deep chime signaled that the Chief Witch wanted to get the laggards seated so as to start the session. Harry knew Augusta Longbottom was going to be a powerful Chief Witch. She had been approached by Andromeda and carefully felt out as to the Right of Conquest question. Andromeda was sure she would be helpful today. Riddle's attempted assassination of her and Neville almost two years ago had given the formidable witch a seething hatred for the Dark Houses.

After getting all the members into their seats, the Chief Witch struck the chime sitting on her desk and intoned, "This is the two thousand and thirty-seventh meeting of the Wizengamot of Greater Britain, Scotland, Wales and Ireland. Today as we start our gathering, we will have two minutes of silent remembrance for all those of our former members who fell in the struggle against the evil tyranny that threatened to engulf us all."

Harry adopted the solemn mien of those around him as he remembered the losses of the Light side. Surreptitiously Harry watched several Dark members. Somehow they did not seem very bothered by the loss of several Light members of the Wizengamot. Narcissa had talked with Harry about how the 'Mot had gone from a Go-Along, Bribe-Along Club to a savage arena where the wrong words would have you and yours assassinated and your House erased. Even as little as twenty years ago, actions that erased Ancient or Noble Houses from magical Britain had suddenly become `acceptable' during the first rise of Voldemort. The stunning hypocrisy of the Death Eaters killing off magical lines yet loudly decrying the loss of traditional wizarding values somehow escaped most people. Harry struggled to keep his features composed rather than show the savage glee of what he planned to do to the families of several dark followers on his face.

Augusta Longbottom, Chief Witch of the Wizengamot struck her chime at the end of two minutes, and spoke. "Today, the first order of business will be to invest new Lords with their hereditary seats in this august body. Who comes forth to claim their right to be seated among us?"

It was an almost rhetorical question. Every member who had any interest in what his seat in the Wizengamot could do, (except those few who regarded their seat as a source of income from the bribes paid for their votes) knew exactly who was being invested and what their personal, or at least House, political leanings were.

In order of their House seniority in the Wizengamot, Lord Weaver, Lord Haraldson, Lord Houseman and Lord Thrundledon each stepped down to the thirteen steps to the lectern used by speakers for important legislation readings needed for official records, and claimed their seat and the one vote their Ancient or Noble House was heir to. Regent Bones claimed her family seat that controlled three votes.

It was Harry's turn. Working hard to project both power and confidence he stepped to the lectern and proclaimed, "I, Lord Harry James Potter, do claim the four seats accorded to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter."

As he finished he raised his hand and his Head of House Potter ring flashed a bright red signifying that the magics of the chamber had accepted his claim.

Harry stood for a moment to gird up his shaky nerves. "I, Lord Harry James Black, do claim the four . ." Harry was having to raise his voice over the eruption of noise. "Seats accorded to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black." He finished with a roar. "So mote be it!"

And from his raised hand, the Ring of the Head of the House of Black flashed an almost blinding purple that rapidly shifted to a bright white as the magic of the Wizengamot chamber not only accepted his claim, but seemed to rejoice in it.

Harry looked up at the over a dozen Wizengamot members who were on their feet screaming at him. The Chief Witch was hammering her gavel on her desk in an attempt to bring order to the chamber and wizard photographic flash powder was strobing from the press section.

Harry lowered his arm and slowly walked up to the House of Potter and House of Black seats. Both seats were about two-thirds of the way up from the speaker lectern and by chance only separated by three other chairs. Both of the Black sisters rose from their proxy seats and curtseyed deeply to him, and Harry bowed deeply back. As prearranged, both women took the advisor seats behind him, flanking his shoulders as he sat in the House Potter seat.

Harry had just lost a mental bet with himself. One, nobody had pulled a wand and started hexes flying. Two, the chair was going to need a Cushioning Charm.

Chief Witch Longbottom's gaveling had finally quieted the chamber.

"My Lord," asked the Chief Witch. "Might I inquire as to how you want to be addressed?"

"Lord Potter-Black as would be expected, Chief Witch." Harry replied.

"Lord Potter-Black, I wish to issue you an apology from the Wizengamot. You should not . . "

"He's a faker, a fraud and a worthless Halfblood! He cannot be Lord Black!" came a yell from the rear most row of seats off from Harry's right.

The gasps of surprise quickly died.

"That will be a five hundred galleon fine for deliberate disrespect for the Rules of the Wizengamot, Lord Onbarstot," snarled the Chief Witch.

"Aurors," she continued. "Take Lord Onbarstot to the DMLE holding area . There, I want him checked for the Imperius Curse and any Unbreakable Vows."

Two aurors suddenly appeared behind Lord Onbarstot and he was grabbed by his elbows and frog marched out of the chamber.

"Is there anyone else who wants to disrespect our traditions? The next fine I issue will be double Lord Onbarstot's, and then I will re-double that"

Harry did a quick calculation. Onbastots fine was fifteen thousand pounds! The next would be thirty thousand pounds, then sixty thousand! If the Chief Witch could make them stick, few people could afford to toss away that amount of money.

After glaring the recalcitrant members into silence, Dame Longbottom continued.

"As most of you recall, we have not had a true quorum meeting of the Wizengamot since the Summer Solstice meeting almost two years past. Therefor, any legislation or law changes will not be voted upon as their time limit for a vote to be held has expired. Any new legislation will need the required three days between the introductory reading and a vote upon its merits.

Are there any members who want to conduct Wizengamot business or introduce new legislation at this time?"

Harry quickly pressed his wand into the Attention dimple set in the panel in front of him. This lit a small amber light set on a stalk above the panel. As he looked around, he saw four other amber lights, but none of them were from the few Houses older and more prestigious then House Potter.

"Lord Potter-Black, are you desirous of addressing this body?"

"Yes, Chief Witch, I am," Harry replied. He then stood and with as much dignity as he could produce, proceeded to the podium and lectern from which he would address the Wizengamot.

"Madam Chief Witch, I do not propose new legislation today. Instead, in a tradition as old as the Wizengamot itself, I seek validation of my role in the defeat of the usurpers who sought to overthrow the legitimate Government of Magical Britain. On your desk and on the Chief Scribes desk are envelopes containing the proofs of my following claims."

Harry paused his orating as both the Chief Witch and Chief Scribe Percy Weasley opened the envelopes and stared reading the sheets of parchment.

Harry stood even taller. "In those envelopes are the proofs of my claim as Lord Harry James Potter-Black, by Right of Conquest, to Lordship of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Nott, The Most Ancient and Noble House of Flint, the Ancient and Noble House of Avery, The Ancient and Noble House of Bletchley, the Ancient House of Selwyn, the . . . . "

Harry quit talking. The noise coming from the Wizengamot members was drowning out his voice. Madam Longbottom had begun to alternately strike the chime, and then hammer on her gavel's sound plate for order.

Chief Witch Longbottom had had enough. Following a pair of cannon blast spells, she pointed her wand at her throat and cast _Sonorus._ "Aurors, the next person to stand and start yelling I want stunned and removed from the chambers!" Half a dozen aurors suddenly had wands gripped in their hands. "The rest of you sit and act like adults instead of ten-year olds at a muggle playground!"

Harry had remained standing tall, yet silent, as the controversy swirled around him. _"Just stand as a mighty Lord should as all those lesser than you scream and natter. How you react will be noticed and approved of by our allies and those who are constant waverers,"_ Narcissa had told him. _"This is a time when image is everything."_

The silence descended like a thudding rock as those who had been able for years to out-yell, bully and intimidate their fellow members realized that hard-eyed aurors were starting to aim wands in their direction.

"Lord Potter-Black, you may continue."

Harry continued, "The Ancient House of Parkinson, the Ancient House of Moragaine, (that brought several gasps of surprise from the members.) the Noble House of Warrington, the House of Crabbe, the House of Goyle and the House of Blythe."

"Per the Wizengamot decision rendered to Baron Thomas Potter for House Potter during the Summer Solstice session of 1652, I hereby claim their gold, their properties and their chattels in the ancient, traditional way of magical Britain."

Harry stood tall and proud as he finished.

The scream reverberated through the chamber. "Nooooooo! Avada Ked . . ."

 **A/N:**

 **Boring, but set-up chapters often are.**


	21. Chapter 21 The'Mot, second day

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 21

The usual disclaimer.

I make no money from this work

All rights to characters, settings, etcetera are the property of JK Rowling

Political, Treaty and Trade Negotiations.

Whomever has the strongest bladder, wins.

September 20, 1998

 _Harry stood tall and proud as he finished._

 _The scream reverberated through the chamber. "Nooooooo! Avada Ked . . ."_

Harry was just beginning to drop behind the speaker's podium when four red streaks of spell fire slammed into the screaming moron who thought he was faster than a trained auror.

Harry slowly straightened as the six aurors in attendance closely watched the members in the tiers of the chamber, watching to see if anyone else was reaching for a wand. Finally satisfied, the Senior Auror team leader gestured two of the aurors over to examine the wizard who had tried to cast the Unforgivable at Harry.

When the pair reached the stupefied wizard, they quickly levitated him out to an aisle way where they rapidly and efficiently searched his clothes and person for magical items. First his left arm was exposed and examined. From the search Harry saw a ratty quill, that was probably a portkey, an amulet of some type, a pair of small sacks and the man's wand placed into a conjured bag and magic suppressing handcuffs were placed on his wrists. All the work was done in silence and the members of the Wizengamot were silent also as everyone feared talking could be taken as spell casting and the aurors looked ready to cast first, question later.

One of the aurors looked to his team leader who was the commander of the Wizengamot's chamber security and nodded.

"Right. As soon as your replacements arrive, you two take Lord Valcourt to the St. Mungo's prisoner ward. I want a full work-up done for curses and potions. Do not question him. I want to use a team of our best interrogators so as not to activate any Unbreakable Vows. We want names from him." His hard eyes swept the seating tiers. And several members would not return his look.

Within two minutes, another half a dozen aurors entered the tiered area and another pair walked in and took position near the Chief Witch. With a nod the stupefied wizard was levitated onto a conjured stretcher and removed from the chamber.

The Chief Witch, who had been scribbling on a piece of parchment, folded it, handed it off to a page who left, looked around, took a steadying breath and spoke. "Lord Potter-Black. I will not apologize for that person. He will suffer any appropriate consequences of his acts. Will you please continue."

Harry took a moment to gather his shaken nerves and re-don his Lord of the Lords mask.

"Thank you, Chief Witch. To reiterate, I am submitting proofs of analysis by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Gringotts Bank and magically sworn testimony as to my Right of Conquest to the spoils from these rebellious, deceased Lordships and their now heirless Houses."

Harry continued on as he had been coached. "In recent memory it has become normal for some parts of our society to condone and praise the elimination of certain bloodlines simply because of political disagreements." With that sentence, Harry lifted his eyes and blatantly stared at the Dark Alliance section, moving his attention from face to face. "I, upon the other hand, want to bring forth a rebirth of preservation of Houses and bloodlines, and even perhaps an expansion to return our Wizengamot membership to historical levels."

The approving applause started with the members of the Potter Alliance that were going to benefit from Harry gaining control of the heirless Houses, but soon spread throughout most of the assembled Lords.

As the applause subsided, copies of Harry's offered proofs to the claiming of eleven Houses as his own from Right of Conquest, flew from the Chief Scribes desk to each Wizengamot House desk.

Harry entered the final scene of the short one act play that Andromeda, Narcissa, Hermione and Harry had concocted.

Harry spoke over the massive rustling of parchment. "Chief Witch, I propose that we close todays' session and call for a vote on my petition at half ten tomorrow. I will answer questions from our ten o'clock opening until then."

Taking her cue, Augusta Longbottom then spoke in a loud voice. "This opening day session of the two thousand thirty-seventh meeting of the Wizengamot is closed. We will reconvene at ten o'clock tomorrow morning." She rang the chime in front of her. "So mote be it!"

The chamber burst into noise with members yelling incoherently into the mass of sound that covered the chamber. Harry briskly walked up the steps, gathered the Blacks and managed to successfully avoid all those who wanted his attention as the small group escaped through a door out to a hallway. With Narcissa leading the way, the three of them managed to reach the House of Black offices without interception.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

As Harry started asking for closure of the days' session, a shattered Hermione rose on unstable legs from her seat. The attempt to kill Harry had happened so fast that she had not even drawn a breath to scream before it was all over, leaving her shaking at the attempt to once again kill her Harry.

There was still a slight tremor in her voice as she said, "Excuse me Heiress Greengrass, I need to have a word with someone."

Daphne rose also. "Do you want me to accompany you or is this private?"

Hermione stared at gorgeous Heiress that she was now considering to be a . . . rival? Two years ago, she and Daphne had been multi-year library acquaintances with a mutual interest in Charms, Runes and Arithmancy. Now, the ex-Slytherin was, what? Someone who had surprised Hermione as she had uncomplainingly carried her share of the dormitory work load over the summer? One of the Snuggle Witches whom her Harry had slept with and an interest in? A possible ally? The books she had shown her, her answers about them, and her appearance of helpfulness today were an indicator of . . what?

Chocolate brown tried to peer through sapphire blue into a soul.

The soul looked politely back.

With a small sigh, Hermione said. "You may come with me, but I ask your silence about whom and what my business entails."

After a second, Daphne nodded her acceptance.

Hermione walked over to the press balcony and waited for a few minutes. Rita Skeeter soon finished and tucked away her Quik-Quotes Quill and started to leave the balcony.

"Ms. Skeeter, a word with you?" said Hermione.

"Well if it is one of my not so favorite people, "sneered Rita. " _Ms. Skeeter?_ Shows you can take the muggleborn out of the muggle world, but you cannot take the muggle world out of the muggleborn. What do you want _Miss_ Granger?" she spat.

Hermione kept her composure and refused to rise to the unpleasant woman's jibe.

" _Miss_ Skeeter, would you please walk with us to a more private area? I'm sure you do not want to be the cause of idle gossip to be spread around, do you?"

The aging, sour faced bottle blonde, looked suspiciously through her trade mark glasses at the composed teen. She flicked a recognizing glance at Daphne.

The three women found a deserted alcove and Hermione ensured their privacy.

"Well?" demanded the older woman. "What is it you want?"

"Miss Skeeter, I am about to give you your biggest story of the year. Now, I am sure you do not need me to go over the Potter interview ground rules again. You know that if you change anything or misquote him, you will never get another word from his lips to your Dicta Quill. AND you should remember that one of his very best friends is Luna Lovegood, whom now is the owner of the Quibbler. You can be replaced."

Hermione paused to trade glares with the forever bitter reporter in front of her.

"Be at the main entrance to the Wizengamot offices at two o'clock this afternoon. Someone will meet you and take you to the interview room."

Hermione was starting to turn away to leave when she stopped. "For your information, Heiress Greengrass has been most kind in donating her time to help a neophyte member of a newly seated Lord's retinue. I am sure that will not merit a mention in any of your stories. Correct?"

If possible, Skeeter's face became even more sour before she gave a sharp nod and stalked off.

Daphne turned to face Hermione, raised an eyebrow and asked, "Whatever you have on her, could you bottle it and sell me some?"

"Sorry Heiress Greengrass. I have merely an understanding with her. Extortion is illegal in magical Britain." Hermione smiled at her almost friend. "Now, could you _please_ show me the way back to the House Black office?"

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

"That went quite well," proclaimed Narcissa. "Only one assassination attempt."

Harry goggled at her. His nerves were still jangled from the attempted use of the Killing Curse. Upon him.

Going to a side desk, Narcissa grabbed two pieces of parchment and a quill. After dashing off a pair of quick notes, she stood and spoke. "I need a Ministry house elf."

Two seconds later a house elf wearing a pristine pillowcase with the Ministry crest on it appeared. "Deliver this note Regent Bones and this note to Lord Kirkwood at the DMLE, and await a reply." Taking the note, the house elf bowed, and was gone.

"What was that about?" Harry asked.

"The second was note asking Lord Kirkwood to use his floo connection to go home this afternoon after the interview. I think we should take some actions to make assassination attempts harder. The first was a request to Regent Bones to join us for lunch. She should be sympathetic to our cause. Hopefully you did not alienate her when you slept with her over the summer?"

The looks of polite curiosity on the sisters' faces did not change as Harry's face cycled wildly between bloodless pale and crimson flush.

"You notice Sister, that blotchy pale and red splotchy look is most unflattering on our Lord."

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The next morning the wizards and witches of Great Britain were greeted by the print equivalent of screaming headlines.

 **Man-Who-Conquered-Conquers-the Wizengamot**

By Rita Skeeter

Yes, my loyal and informed readers, due to my long-standing relationship

with the now Man-Who-Conquered, I was there yesterday morning during the

surprise ascension of Lord Harry Potter to the Lordship of the Most Ancient and

Most Noble House of Black!

The new minted Lord Potter-Black then proceeded to stun the Wizengamot and its

observers by proceeding to claim the Lordship of a _further_ eleven Houses!

You read that sentence correctly, my noble and faithful readers.

Lord Potter-Black claims to be the Heir of _eleven_ Houses by

Right of Conquest.

How can he do this, you ask?

Apparently by producing eye witness testimony with Department of Magical

Law Enforcement spell tracing with a dash of Gringotts inheritance magic to show

that he believes he was the cause of the removal of the last Heir of eleven wizarding Houses.

For those gentle readers who are not cognizant of the minutiae involved in PureBlood

Inheritance laws, for Lord Potter-Black to succeed in his quixotic quest he must

prove there are absolutely no heirs remaining from the main branch of the family.

Cadet or disowned, cast out or disinherited branches of the family are not allowed as

claimants to a House Lordship.

Tomorrow the Wizengamot will sit and decide as to the validity of Lord Potter-Black's claims.

Stay with me devoted readers as I will have for you all the information you will need to

follow this Bombarda Maxima story!

 **Exclusive interview with The-Man-Who-Conquered!**

By Rita Skeeter

As all my Loyal and Dedicated readers know, I have a long standing relationship with

The-Boy-Who-Lived who then became The-Man-Who-Conquered.

Yesterday I was fortunate in that he once again asked me to interview him so that he could

explain himself to the multitudes of wizarding Britain.

He requested me for this position due to the strong bond forged between us during his fourth year at Hogwarts.

Readers should recall I had a long interviewin his fifth Hogwart's year concerning his many battles and encounters with Lord Voldemort. This relationship led the young man to asking me to inform my exalted readers of the concern he has for the future of our wizarding world.

He started by saying he thought of this interview as a starting place to talk about:

THE SINS OF TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

"During the rise and reign of the Halfblood Tom Riddle, we lost forty-seven Houses. Some were

Halfblood but the majority were PureBlood. Of those forty-seven, Tom and his deluded

Death Eaters killed off thirty-two Lords, their Heirs and in most cases all of the family members.

Families that were revered in Wizengamot history were flushed away as un-necessary to Riddle's twisted vision. The Bones family lost nineteen members and only Regent Bones survives to attempt to re-build her name. The Prewett's lost fifteen members and only two sisters survive. The family line will probably soon become extinct."

Lord Potter-Black continued. "I was surprised to find the information as to how the supposed champion of wizarding tradition actually destroyed more tradition, and spilled

more supposed Pure Blood, than anyone in the last two centuries.

Riddle cared for nothing in wizarding Britain except his own power. The only time he

cared about tradition was if it gave him more power or control over someone.

"Now we, the Wizengamot, will be given an opportunity to keep many Ancient

and/or Noble Houses from disappearing from our wizarding world"

"Tomorrow, I will save these Houses and return them to prominence in wizarding Britain

they have long been denying themselves."

There you have his very own words, eager readers. Lord Potter-Black intends to somehow keep

eleven of our Houses from becoming extinct.

Follow with me tomorrow as I communicate to you our young Lord's success or failure.

He has set quite a task for himself. One can only hope his youth and inexperience

have not caused him to over reach.

For the complete interview see Page 3.

For a recap of my interview from three years ago, see page 6

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Tuesday, September 21, 1998

It was half seven in the morning as the Black 'family' gathered at the breakfast table. The sisters were finishing reading the Daily Prophet along with their first cup of tea. Hermione's copy of the Prophet was already in Harry's hands as she had finished reading it.

"I see lots of speculation as to how our Lord is going to lead thirteen Houses. But no solid stories on just handing the Lordships to someone else," stated Andromeda as she lowered the paper to watch Harry place another chunk of banana into Teddy's grubby fist where he promptly smushed it before messily cramming the mush in his mouth.

Narcissa merely nodded agreement. Harry kept his mouth shut about the number actually being fifteen. He had not told _anyone_ about the Peverell or Slytherin inheritance yet.

Hermione added nothing to the conversation as she and Harry had talked about what should happen today well into the night before they fell asleep in his bed. After the assassination try upon her friend, her nerves were as taut as a centaur bow string and she had not wanted to sleep alone that night. Her first thought this morning had been how peaceful she had slept, and why was she torturing herself by sleeping alone at the school?

" _Because if he only loves you as a sister, it would shatter your heart beyond repair,"_ she answered herself.

Breakfast was served and eaten over the next half hour, Teddy was given into the care of Yula, the new nanny house elf. Their exquisite robes were donned and the group floo'd into the Ministry by half eight. Harry was again caught, de-sooted and the quartet fought their way to the elevators with minimal casualties to the shouting press multitude.

There was a constant stream of Wizengamot members, proxies, fixers, influencers and other people with 'interests' through the Potter office for the next hour. Those who knew the plan were greeted and reassured. Those who were seeking influence or information were also politely greeted, given one minute of platitudes and hustled back out again.

The same was occurring at the House Black office with Narcissa. There the petitioners were hoping to use her influence over the newly revealed Lord. She also passed out sincere greetings, platitudes or a royal sneer depending upon the affiliation of the person attempting to use her.

Fifteen minutes to the hour heralded the arrival of a squad of four aurors who were to be their escort to the Wizengamot chamber. After yesterday's trouble, Lord Kirkwood was taking no chances. All petitioners were swept out of the offices and the one of the oddest 'family' quartets in wizarding history made their way towards the Wizengamot chamber. At the last door, the met the person of Heiress Greengrass. It took less than four words and several speaking looks between Daphne to Hermione, Hermione to Harry, Harry to both Hermione, then Daphne, for Hermione to join Daphne on her way to the Preferred Spectator Gallery.

The gallery was more than three-quarters full already today. They ended up in the front row where the railing partially blocked the view. Daphne was looking out of the corner of her eye at Hermione whose face was mask-like and faint tremors shimmered across her limbs frequently.

In other words, Hermione Granger was once again stretched tighter than an about to break tow hawser. Daphne knew they could not talk here so she did the only idea that occurred to her and placed her hand on top of the hand Granger had setting on her left thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze. Hermione blankly looked at the hand laying on hers. Her mind had been in overdrive, considering all that could go wrong, all that could go right, and how either way would affect the world of magic for decades. Suddenly she jerked her hand out from under Greengrass' and then grabbed that hand in the death grip of the drowning. Daphne winced, but said nothing.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Lord Potter-Black swept into the Wizengamot chamber as if he owned it. Andromeda and Narcissa had told him repeatedly that he actually, at this point in time, _did_ own the chamber.

They were both positive they had the votes to carry his Right of Conquest demands and shortly after the new Lords of the conquered Houses presented themselves for their voting investiture, the Potter Alliance would become unstoppable. Now all he had to do was project the air of a mighty Lord who expected he would be given his due.

The assembly was much more decorous this morning. The spectator galleries were tense with speculation. All talk died as the Chief Witch tapped her chime.

"Welcome to the second day of the two thousand and thirty-seventh meeting of the Wizengamot of Greater Britain, Scotland, Wales and Ireland. Before we commence, I will announce the following. Lord Onbarstot has been found not to have been under any compulsions for his actions yesterday. He may have failed his parent's attempts at teaching him proper decorum, but he has paid his fine and he is in attendance today."

Lord Onbarstot glared a dirty look at the Chief Witch.

She paused and slowly looked around the tiers. "Lord Valcourt was found to be _Imperiused_ and will be in DMLE custody for some time. The investigation into who is responsible for his condition will be thorough and very painstaking."

That comment led to a susurrus of whispers and looks around. Madame Longbottom looked around despite herself. She also knew there were many more sets of eyes scanning the seats hoping someone there would break enough to make them a suspect.

"Our first order of business is the confirmation by Right of Conquest is the submission of eleven defeated in battle Houses of magical Britain to Lord Potter-Black. His proof of fitness as to his claims have been verified by our own Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Gringotts Bank and sworn eye witness testimony. Lord Potter-Black, would you please take your place at the speaker's podium."

Harry rose and slowly strode with all the dignity and gravitas he could muster down to the podium. It was with a sense of dark humor he saw that the podium had been enlarged and was now of sufficient mass to intercept a Killing Curse.

"Lords of the Wizengamot, you have been furnished with copies of my claims. I will give you thirty minutes to ask any questions or answer any possible refutations of my claim."

A dozen lights lit, demanding the Chief Witch's attention.

"Lord Grosstet, you have the first question," she said.

"My Lord Potter-Black," Grosstet spoke smoothly, "I and several of my colleagues, have candidates who are much more worthy to become the New Heads of House for many of the newly Heirless Houses. We call for a vote to suspend all this fol-de-rol until it can be arranged to have them tested by the Ministry during the next several weeks. I call . . "

"Lord Grosstet," broke in Harry. "In the tiers behind you is Head of Accounts Management 'HisAxBringsDeath', today representing Gringotts bank. Pay the inheritance test fee of your diluted, weakling candidates and we will have answers within minutes."

The silence became intense as the two Lords stared at each other. " _Movie Samurai duel, hai!"_ thought Harry.

Confusion showed in Lord Grosstet bearing and voice. "But Gringott's demands a thousand galleons per test," he almost stuttered.

"Why-y-y, yes it does," spoke Harry in a tone of seeming surprised wonder. His voice hardened as he continued. "I have spent the galleons at Gringotts to assure myself there are no viable candidates for my chattel Houses. It is time for you to spend your galleons to refute me."

Harry peered politely at Grosstet. "Our magical brethren across the pond have a simple saying for this situation." His voice became harsh. "Put up, or shut up."

Unexpectedly to Harry, applause started in the small Light Liberal section of the chamber, but spread rapidly throughout most of the seating.

The Chief Witch waited until the applause started to fade before ringing her chime for order in the chamber. "Lord Grosstet, are you finished?" She waited a moment. Lord Grosstet sat down. "Very well. Lord Heatherun, you have the floor."

"I yield the floor, Madam Chief Witch," came Lord Heatherun's voice.

"Lord Blount, you have the floor?"

"Madam Chief Witch, I must protest this whole proceeding. Those of us who regard ourselves as the bastions of wizarding tradition, (Several snickers and soft laughs broke out in the chamber.) are disconcerted at the lack of notice our _young_ Lord Potter-Black has given us to produce counter-arguments and candidates."

Harry again broke in. "Lord Blount, you have been given twenty-three hours to produce your refutations. _(Oh, how Narcissa had drilled him on certain large, stuffy words!)_ It is not my fault you and your allies have squandered the time away. You now have twenty-two minutes remaining until the vote. I suggest you take advantage of that wizarding invention called the floo."

Again, soft laughter and chuckles from Harry's supporters greeted his sally.

"Lord McMillian, you have the floor."

"Chief Witch, exalted colleagues, The-Boy-Who-Lived, The-Man-Who-Conquered, has complied with our traditions and our laws in this matter. Gringotts can find no errors in his parchment work. The Ministry lawyers find no mistakes in his methods or proceedings. Even our own Wizengamot Law Checkers can find no possible refutation of his claims. And remember, our Wizengamot has rewarded the prowess upon the battlefield of House of Potter in the past. It is one of those valued traditions my colleagues keep harping about." McMillian stated as his eyes swept the Dark ranks.

Lord McMillian sat and Harry turned and bowed deeply. "My Lord, I thank you and treasure your kind words."

"Lord Uttuxbridge, you have the floor," intoned the Chief Witch.

"My Lords, we have before us . . ." And Lord Uttuxbridge then proceeded to try to put the Wizengamot to sleep. _"Great Merlin," thought Harry after five minutes. "We have found a replacement for Professor Binns if we want to keep History of Magic as a class we will be able to take a kip in."_

The man kept droning on and on. Harry actually was having trouble not zoning out right there in front of the Wizengamot. _"Death by Narcissa, death by Narcissa, painful death by Narcissa if I fall asleep"_ Harry kept chanting in his mind.

Suddenly, virtually everyone in the chamber started as the Chief Witch rang her chime.

"Our apologies, Lord Uttuxbridge," spoke the Chief Witch loudly. "However time for debate is almost over, and Lord Heatherun is demanding an inheritance test for the House of . . ."

"Flint, Madam Chief Witch. Young Basil here has been associated with Marius Flint. I demand a test now." Heatherun finished glaring at Harry.

"I am not the person giving the tests, Lord Heatherun. Take the young man to HisAxBringsDeath and have him give the test," Harry riposted in an uncaring tone of voice.

A young boy of perhaps twelve years was led over to the low partitioned off area where HisAxBringsDeath was seated. Harry could see the boy flinch at having his hand cut for the ritual thirteen drops of blood needed. Harry could see the soaking was finished and the magical parchment was removed from the bowl.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Hermione was learning that being a brilliant witch does not prepare a person for the slow motion tension inherent in a vital Wizengamot vote. Andromeda and Narcissa had tried to assure her the vote was a shoo-in. But Hermione had lived through seven years of Harry Potter luck. Unlike the sisters, she was very aware of how Harry's fortunes could change in a heartbeat.

She sat in the spectator gallery next to Heiress Daphne Greengrass who inexplicably seemed to be trying to reassure and encourage her. Hermione's brain was swinging between what Harry was saying, watching the effects on Wizengamots member's faces and suddenly having allies speak in his favor. Lord Uttuxbridge's monotone drone had Hermione switching back to Greengrass again. What did she want from Harry that she thought would require getting Hermione to approve? If she fancied Harry, she should be trying to supplant Hermione. Not become friendly with her.

Suddenly, Hermione's anxiety spiked again as Lord Heatherun brought forth his candidate for the Lordship of House of Flint. The boy was a perfect patsy from Lord Heatherun's viewpoint.

Young, probably impressionable, the boy would need a guardian directing his every move. Perfect.

Hermione continued to virtually worry her lower lip to shreds as unknowingly as she had just spent almost half an hour trying to crush Daphne's hand.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Heatherun was visibly unsatisfied with the results. With a cuff on his shoulder, the boy was shoved in the direction of a robed and hooded woman who led him out of the chamber via a door in the upper corner of the chamber. Harry gave Narcissa what he hoped was a significant look and a Wizengamot page soon scurried out of the chamber with a note in hand.

"Lord Heatherun, you have information for the assembly?" Harry politely asked.

"The boy has not the blood of Marius Flint in his veins," grumped a visibly upset Lord Heatherun.

Harry allowed himself a small smile. "Now that the la . ."

"Chief Witch. May I be indulged for one short question please," came a voice from two rows in back of the House Black seats.

Madam Longbottom looked at Harry who after a moment nodded slightly.

"Lord Selhunter, make your question short or next time I will not be so indulgent," she said.

The now identified Lord Selhunter gave an abbreviated bow to the Chief Witch and spoke.

"Lord Potter-Black, you have stated, nay even promised, that your supposed Right of Conquest House's will not disappear from Britain. Could you explain to the Wizengamot just how you are going to do that?"

Harry stared back at the man, than turned to the Chief Witch.

"Madam Chief Witch, we are not scheduled to meet on Friday to decide which new legislation proposed today will survive scrutiny to be voted upon during our Winter Solstice Session?"

Madam Longbottom nodded.

Harry turned back to Lord Selhunter. "You and the Wizengamot will be informed on Friday as to how I shall salvage part of our world from the disastrous stewardship of that maniac, Tom Riddle." Harry paused a heartbeat. "And his supporters."

As thunderous applause broke out in the Chamber and the spectator areas, Harry turned once again to the Chief Witch.

"Madam Chief Witch, I call for a vote."

Augusta nodded slowly and rose to her feet behind her desk. "The vote to approve Lord Potter-Black's gaining by Right of Conquest from honourable battle, the vaults, properties and chattels of eleven Houses of the wizard nation of Greater Britain will now commence. Vote Yea to approve, Nay to disapprove."

The blue Nay column started its climb with a rush as the Dark alliance voted _en masse_ against The-Man-Who-Conquered. The glowing red vertical column that tallied the Yea votes climbed slowly. Harry watched stone faced as the Nay column stopped rising. It was soon surpassed by the Yea column and at the end, there were more Yeas than Nays.

Madam Longbottom struck her chime and announced, "By a vote of thirty-eight Yeas to thirty-four Nays, the Right of Conquest vote for Lord Potter-Black is approved. So mote be it!"

Applause with thunderous cheers exploded from the visitors galleries and throughout the chamber as with a sweeping bow to the Chief Witch and the tiers where most of his supporters were, Lord Potter-Black climbed up to the House Black seats and sat. _"Yep, gotta do that with dignity before my legs collapse," thought Harry._

The next hour of the Wizengamot's time was taken up by a series of new legislation bills being introduced that would be given a preliminary vote on Friday. If passed, the final vote on the legislation would be during the Winter Solstice meeting. If voted down, the legislation could not be re-introduced for six months.

At the end of only that hour, Harry was heartily sick of politics. A lifetime of this was going to succeed where Tom had failed. It was going to kill him.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Harry had one final act to perform before the Wizengamot part of his day would be done. The House Potter office was crowded with the Sisters, Hermione, Susan Bones and the twenty Lords and Heirs who were to become Lords on Friday gathered before they left for Gringotts to tidy up the final parchment work since the Wizengamot vote had been in Harry's favor. Harry did not have to go to Gringotts. He had, sort of, believed the Black sister's that he would win in the Wizengamot and had already signed his parchment work for the Conquest documents.

Harry raised his arms and after quiet descended upon the room, he spoke. "I thank you for your support today, and I thank you in advance for your support on Friday. I know it seems short and abrupt of me but we have three students whom are in their NEWT year and have missed almost two days of classes."

Harry turned to Ernest McMillian. "Ernie, or should I say Lord Nott-to-be, you and Neville are stuck for another couple of hours. Meet us back in the common room and we will all try to catch up on our studies, alright?"

Ernie nodded, and extended his hand to Harry. "Just don't let Entwhistle take the seat next to Hermione and she will get me caught up in no time."

" _Shitte, shitte, shitte, shitte, shitte, shitte, shitte!_

"I'll see what I can do, Ernie," Harry replied with a sickly smile.

 **A/N**

 **Almost to the end of the first snowball of the avalanche.**

 **I'll try not to be so politically detail oriented and should be able to skim**

 **over the ten new Wizengamot investitures coming in the next chapter.**

 **Remember, the eleventh House is Matrilineal. Wanna guess who gets the call?**

 **Hermione: Interest by Entwhistle, interest (?) by Ernie.**

 **And interest by Daphne? Hmmmmm.**


	22. Chapter 22, We tried for normal Honest

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 22

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Standard disclaimer. I make no money writing things about

JK Rowling's universe.

God Save the Queen.

Harry tries Normal.

Yeah, right.

 **Author Note: In less than a week, we will be starting the Snowbird Migration back to the wastelands of the frozen north. Hopefully, after the first week in May it might be thawed.**

 **HOWEVER, because of the travelling, Chapter 23 will delayed to approximately May 15-16.**

 **Sorry, I do not write worth a da_ after pulling 7.5 tons of trailer all day.**

 **Mus' be gittin' old.**

 **Any notifications prior to May 10 will be me substituting edited/corrected chapters. Cannot let Alix's work be wasted.**

Wednesday September 22, 1998

Getting to Friday was a frenzy of work for many of Harry's peers. Ernie, Neville, Kevin, Susan, Hermione and Daphne were all going to have to attend Friday's Wizengamot session, so they were trying to cram five days of lessons, research and homework into two-and-a-half days.

Starting Tuesday afternoon, the beyond NEWT's Eights had commandeered the largest table in the common room and started to play intensive catch-up. The busy regular NEWT Eights grabbed the next table, _(Damn it. Somebody must keep giving Ginny and Luna the entrance password. They're here again!)_ and the rest of their class mates, recognizing that interrupting the frenetic group around Harry and Hermione was probably a bad idea, kept to their own work.

Quietly.

For the next two days, classes became interruptions in the drive to catch up on research and home work. Harry's attempts at focusing upon his school work were not being helped by a phenomenon he had not seen in four years. Packs of older year girls were constantly trying to catch his eye and intercept him in the halls to try to chat him up about when his next Hogsmeade visit might be, or to drop anvil sized hints about their availability for the just announced end of term Yule Ball.

He got some relief Thursday. He had been ambushed by a trio of sixth years whose ties had all mysteriously disappeared, whose too tight shirts had two or three buttons undone and all had uniform skirts that barely covering their knickers. They had Harry crowded up against a wall, talking about how they wanted some private tutoring to improve their wand work?

They never saw the Wrath of Goddess descending upon them in the form of Hermione Granger, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, Susan Bones and Padma Patil.

In a trice, the trio was penned in by five irritated looking young women, Harry was told by Greengrass to get along to his class. _"You don't want to be late, do you?"_

As soon as he was ten paces away, the intimidation started. No direct threats were made, but the variety of hex and jinx results that _could_ occur if they were caught harassing Harry Potter again was made clear.

"Professor Granger," came a snooty voice. "How can you stand there and let these bullies threaten us?" The whinge ended with a smirk from the trio leader.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. In a pitying voice she said, "I'm not here to protect them. I'm here to protect _you_. Without my being here, my best estimate is you _might_ get out of the infirmary in about a week. His friends in The Eights are very, very protective of Harry Potter. And since half these women can do undetectable wandless magic . . "

Hermione gave the three her best evil smirk. "I do believe you three _young girls_ need to be elsewhere. Now."

The three _young girls_ departed rapidly, and the five young women looked back and forth at each other. Davis had the first attack of the giggles and proceeded to infect them all, escalating to supporting-each-other-holding-their-sides-laughter. And with this incident, the five developed a bond of actual friendship. As Hermione was to reflect upon it later, it only took her until a week after her nineteenth birthday to finally find friends outside of Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna.

And surprising herself, Hermione found thanking the other four for their action in the common room later that night actually relaxed her. The good natured back and forth teasing seemed to lift some un-named burden off her mind, and for the first time in weeks, she could concentrate on studying instead of fretting over everything.

Friday Morning started quite normally for a Wizengamot session day. Having floo'd to 12 Grimmauld Place the previous night, everyone was up early for breakfast, reading the Daily Prophet, feeding Teddy his bananas, gently using an _Evanesco_ to remove the banana smears from his colour cycling hair, then flooing to the Ministry where they not so gently bulled through the horde of question shouting news reporters until they reached the newly enlarged Potter-Black office suite. Harry believed Narcissa had personally spiked at least three reporters with her stiletto heels during the walk.

After dealing with Wizengamot parchment work, the group headed to the chamber for the session. Harry made a point of greeting each of the ten new Heads of House who had arrived to claim their status and in most cases to take control of the House seat, or seats, in the Wizengamot. Neville, who was claiming a House only, as House Blythe did not have a Wizengamot seat gave him a questioning look.

"Just learning how to work the floor, Nev," he said quietly, then with a half grin gave a tilt with his head towards the Black sisters sitting in the newly enlarged Potter-Black seating enclosure. "Orders from above."

Neville snickered quietly. "Merlin, Harry. I thought it took a girlfriend to be whipped?"

After their displays of the Head of House Lordship rings showing that magic had accepted their assertions to their status, the seven new Lords were acclaimed and seated in their house enclosures. There they found advisors from their old Houses waiting for them. The number varied as enclosure size was as large as four chairs for a Most Ancient and Most Noble House to two chairs for a merely Ancient or a Noble House. Harry also knew the ten were in for a long, tense weekend as they would be "introduced" to the Houses they now had Lordship over and were responsible for.

Harry was glad that Narcissa had further introduced him to the House of Black Family Loyalty Oaths. Minor transgressions against ones sworn Lord brought constant uneasiness. Transgressions such as lying to your Lord, even by omission, brought pain. Often excruciating pain. Narcissa stated it was just below the _Crutiatus_ threshold. Any attempt at violence or assassination against your Lord meant instant death. Knowing an attempt was to be made and not informing your Head of House, brought instant banishment from the House. No clemency, no appeals. Harry had passed copies to the new Lords with a note that he endorsed the use of the oath to keep the new Lords safe and hale.

Failure to take the Oaths by a conquered family member would result in immediate banishment from the House, leaving them with the disgrace of being known as a No-Name, a status barely more tolerated in wizard society than a squib.

As the new Lords made their ascension, Harry was thinking about how the addition of fourteen votes on the side of Goodness and Light could be used.

The final votes for the advancement of the sessions proposed legislation were tallied by midafternoon. One of the proposed laws on dark creature definition was considered so bad that without any input from the Potter-Blacks, Longbottoms or MacMillians, it was defeated soundly.

Harry spent the minimum polite time again glad handing fellow Lords before leaving for Hogwarts. He had so-o-o-o much to do.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

After having a lie in Saturday, Harry decided to make his own late breakfast in the Eights kitchen. The alluring, irresistible smell of cooking bacon soon attracted a mob of others who also seemed to have slept through Hogwarts' breakfast. Harry lost count of the number of rashers of bacon, plates of scrambled eggs and masses of sausage he cooked for the next three quarters of an hour.

When he finally got a chance to look around at his class mates, he realized that not only were around a dozen students mingling and casually talking, but a true religious miracle was before his eyes. Ron Weasley was talking Quidditch with a quartet that included Millicent Bulstrode. Without a green and silver school robe on, Ron had apparently forgotten about his Slytherin hatred when talking to a fellow Quidditch fanatic. He was also doing something Harry would have thought impossible. He was actually looking at her face as he spoke, not staring at the spectacular chest on the tall girl. " _Nope, that's not a girl anymore_. _Godric," thought Harry. "Who would have thought a Hogwarts robe could conceal so much? She looks solid, not squishy either."_

"I'm tellin' you, it is so unfair that we cannot play on a Quidditch team this year. This is worse than fourth year when Dumbledore cancelled quidditch because of that stupid Tri-Wizard Tournament." He spoke loudly, waving his arms, and the other three loudly agreed with him. At that point Harry noticed the other two fans were Roger Malone and Isobel MacDougal. Both of whom had played for their house team.

"I mean, anyone who was scouted was seen like," arm waving, "two years ago. And now the scouts will never have a chance to look us over," Ron kept on complaining, and the other three heads kept nodding.

Harry suddenly caught on that the group was unhappy with McGonagall's ban on eighth year players on house teams. He had not paid a lot of attention to the ban as he figured he would be quite busy enough with his classes.

Without thinking, Harry interjected, "Why don't you guys form a practice team for the house teams to play against? Godric, just set it up as a 'friendly' and get someone to contact the pro scouts to see if they will come out to watch?"

Four sets of eyes swiveled towards him.

"What's a friendly?" a surprisingly pleasant sounding voiced Bulstrode asked.

Harry thought for a moment. "Um, it's a real game with scores and a referee and everything but it doesn't count in the league standings."

Ron's eyes squinted down as he thought. "You mean if we beat Hufflepuff it wouldn't count against them for the House Cup?"

"That's right. You play a real game. It just would not count for us or the other team for the House Cup."

Ron's smile started small, but grew and grew. "But we would all know, wouldn't we?"

"Alright you lot," said Ron decisively. "Let's find out who wants to play, and then we go and badger McGonagall into letting us play a 'friendly' match or three."

With that the four Quidditch fanatics left the kitchen for the common room.

Harry walked into the common room and was promptly ambushed by a flock of PureBlood's, waving copies of the morning Prophet, with Ernie MacMillian in tow like he was a prisoner. They wanted to hash over the Daily Prophets version of yesterday's Wizengamot. Harry, after considering stuffing them down the hatch in Fluffy's room, decided they were actually genuinely curious to know the difference between what really happened and the Daily Prophets version.

After skimming the article, he then spent half an hour giving his version. When done, he figured that at least people were asking him about what happened instead of blindly accepting what the Prophet printed. He briefly ran through his mind all the times he had refused to talk to anyone about what had happened to him. Maybe with age he was willing to talk instead of stew internally about his troubles.

Harry's late morning common room studiousness was interrupted by Greengrass gracefully setting herself across from him at his study table.

"Have you misplaced Professor Granger, Potter?" she smirked. "I do not see her here."

"She's at the library, looking for some information," replied Harry.

"Excellent." Her smirk grew in size. "Have you asked Hermione to the Yule Ball yet?"

Harry froze, refusing to look at Greengrass.

"You know," she said in a light, airy voice eerily reminiscent of Luna. "You are not a socially scarred (1) fourteen year old anymore, and your competition is not a bunch of callow teenagers either. Granger may have very politely returned Entwhistle's Intention Gift, but do not think he is the only one looking at her."

She rose from her chair, leaned over the table and in a soft voice only Harry could hear, "Do not fuck this up again, Potter. I will not have you ruining my plans."

Harry never did say a word, and was left to watch her admittedly attractive jean covered backside as she sauntered away.

Harry proceeded to spend the rest of the day writing, and having Hermione revise, requests for End of Term NEWT and beyond NEWT projects for a mundane style pub. He spent an hour placing all the project outlines in the professor's office boxes after dinner.

He refused to whinge about spending Saturday night sitting in the common room studying. At least he had lots of company. And those who were spending the evening in more leisurely pursuits were courteous enough to place silencing charms around their areas.

On Sunday, Ginny, Luna and a Hufflepuff named Kendrick came to Harry and Hermione. The two girls told him politely, but in no uncertain terms, the Veterans were going to start building a dormitory and common room for themselves across the large corridor. When Harry asked why were they telling them and not the Headmistress, Luna gave them her best puzzled look and told them since the two of them would then become the Veterans Head of House also, it was only polite to communicate the project to them. _"Oh, by the way, where are the goblin building materials?"_

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The routine settled in. Study, class work, research, class work, study, study, more study. The End of Term project requests, heavily changed and annotated, were returned to Harry. He placed a notice in the common room and passed the word in the affected classes, looking for those that wanted to join in the project with a meeting scheduled for next week.

Ron had managed to persuade McGonagall that the Eighth Years could form a Quidditch team that would be allowed to play in matches against the house teams but would not count towards the House Cup. As the only team captain before The Battle, Ron became the captain of the Fighting Phoenix's. Try-outs next week. _"Of course mate, you'll be our Seeker, right?"_

The ex-Slytherin trio also stopped by to tell their Heads that they would be taking turns spending nights in the Slytherin House dormitory. Apparently some of the fifth and fourth years had let power go to their heads and were not behaving well without older class mates to rein them in. And indications were since she opposed them, they were going to start ganging up on Astoria.

"Oh, could we borrow your invisibility cloak?"

After the three were gone, Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Harry shivered. The three had looked like a group of lioness' leaving for a hunt. And lions often eat their prey whilst it is still alive.

It took only two days before several members of Slytherin were looking exhausted and seemed to be in pain while walking the hallways. Most noticed the group that had to be chivied along as it walked into the Great Hall for breakfast by Astoria Greengrass, but no one talked about why.

It was a week before Greengrass mentioned, while returning Harry's cloak, that most of the older PureBlood boys had tried to break into several third year girls sleeping rooms to "teach them a lesson."

"Pain is quite the lesson teacher. Those idiots may have missed Voldemort and the Carrows, but they still do not realize their world has changed. They will learn."

She turned to Hermione, "Professor Granger, would you happen to know any good intent based rune wards we could place upon the female dormitories? Preferably with a nerve pain consequence for attempting to break the ward? " Greengrass' smile could have frozen a stars' heart. "Our young Slytherin's ladies need their beauty rest."

"We cannot have young Slytherin's with dark bags under their eyes. Of course I'll help. In fact, I believe I have just what you want." Hermione was not as good as Greengrass. Her smile would have only scared a shark.

And with Greengrass' glares becoming less and less discrete, Harry broke down and while manfully telling himself he was doing it because it would simplify his life, he managed without stammering to ask Hermione to accompany him to the Yule Ball.

Harry noticed she seemed extremely pleased as she said yes.

October, 1998

The days continued passing quickly for the Eighth Years as they buckled down to their studies.

" _Alright, this is getting ridiculous," Harry thought. "Don't Ginny and Luna have their own common rooms? Or do they need extra tutoring from Neville? They're always sitting near him."_

Harry resolved to ask Hermione about it.

It was a couple of hours before dinner.

Harry, Hermione and Ron were sitting at the large sized table that, through the mysterious social mechanics of the Eighth Years, had become the Golden Trio's study place of choice. It was slightly isolated, so quiet conversation would not be overheard by a casual listener, and by now, any out of the ordinary conversations had one of them casting a _Muffliato_ charm on their area with a casual wand flick that was so routine that none of the trio even noticed which had cast it.

The very slight movement Harry made alerted the other two that someone was approaching their table. They all looked up as Millicent Bulstrode and Daphne Greengrass slowly approached, and eye brows rose as a hidden wand flick from Greengrass had put up a silencing charm.

"Lord Potter-Black, would you grant me the time for a discussion with you?" Bulstrode asked quietly. Harry's eye brows rose slightly at the formal phrasing and she had made the request of Lord Potter-Black

"You may as well include Hermione and Ron in that request, Bulstrode." Harry replied. "You should know by now we do not keep secrets from each other. Would you please take a seat at our table?"

Hermione actually blinked in mild surprise at the smooth way Harry had politely told her no, this would be done his way, and then had offered to listen to what she had to say without being rude and dictatorial.

Bulstrode noticeably hesitated before sitting next to Ron and across from Harry. She was working at keeping her face expressionless, but a slight tic above her eyebrow and the bunching of her jaw muscles belied her calm demeanor. Surprisingly Greengrass demurred to sit.

"I was asked by Miss Bulstrode to be her . . advocate, if you had not been so gracious, Lord Potter-Black."

"She has only told me that this is Family Business, and she is acting as her Lord Bulstrode's representative. Hermione traded slightly cocked eyebrows with Greengrass. Hermione allowed the faintest of smirks to flit across her face.

Then with an encouraging hug to Bulstrode's shoulder, Daphne moved to an armchair away from the trios table and took a book out of her book bag and started to read.

Millicent's eyes followed Daphne's progress until she jerked her attention back to Harry. After what had to be a couple of calming breaths, she spoke.

"My Lord Potter-Black, "she started. "Heiress Greengrass spoke the truth, in that I have been formally directed by my Lord of Family, Lord Picinicus Albemarle Bolson Bulstrode, to ask the boon of a meeting soon to discuss matters that should be of mutual satisfaction to you both."

"Shite," was Harrys first thought. "Why me? I'm not ready for this high level political stuff!"

Surprisingly Ron spoke up. He had seen the instant spike in Harry's anxiety level. And this was a situation his Dad had actually taught him and drilled him on. "Miss Bulstrode, may I enquire as to how many siblings you have?"

Millicent's eyes swung over to Ron. "I am the youngest of three children. The only daughter. Why are you . … .."

She was cut off by Ron. "Miss Bulstrode, I do not believe your father attempted any other contact with Lord Potter-Black until now. Correct?"

"That is correct, Mr. Weasley" the young witch ground out as she flushed.

"Miss Bulstrode, would you agree that such a meeting request as you have brought to Lord Potter should have been requested by your father in a letter, or from your brother, the Heir, or perhaps under certain circumstances by the second son. " Ron continued in a flattened voice, "So, as I am sure your father is not intentionally offering an insult to Lord Potter-Black, I believe you should tell us, why are _you_ the messenger?"

Now it was Millicent who turned ghost white in fear that she had just ruined any chance of getting Potter to listen to her. After a couple of attempts to speak that got caught by the lump of failure that had swelled in her throat, she started to rise from her chair.

Ron quickly reached over and grasped her hand. "Please stop," he said. "Sit down and let's start over again." Millicent settled back into her chair.

Ron continued, "Millicent Bulstrode, this is Lord Harry Potter-Black. Lord Potter-Black, this is Millicent Bulstrode. Apparently she needs to ask a favor of you."

A couple of seconds went by as Harry and Hermione absorbed how Ron had just defused the situation.

" _Ron defusing a situation?"_

" _Ron defusing a situation?"_

Harry shook his head, shaking off his confusion and swiveled his eyes from Ron back to Millicent.

"Well, Bulstrode, Ron does raise some good points." "Why you, why now, and if this has anything to do with betrothal or marriage proposals the answer is no to any meeting whatsoever."

Millicent's face had just regained color when Harry's comment caused it to become bright red.

"N…N…No Lord…Potter-Black. No marriage proposals. It is family business related." She stammered out.

Harry spoke again, his eyes still locked on Millicent. "Hermione, what business is the Bulstrode family in? How do they make their galleons?"

Millicent's head spun to look at Hermione so fast her hair whipped across her face. Hermione's forehead wrinkled as she flipped through her mental files on the prominent wizarding families gained from reading Greengrass' book. It was half a minute later that she remembered. The book had not listed the manner of the Bulstrode family income. AND Greengrass had admitted she did not know the answer either.

"Harry, I don't know. And I find THAT very interesting."

Hermione turned to glare at Millicent so hard that the girl was positive the instantly scary witch's cold brown eyes were trying to pry that knowledge right through the front of her skull. Harry and Ron looked at each other for a moment, actually surprised that Hermione had not had an answer.

Harry dragged his eyes back to Millicent, "So, back to my question. Why you, and why now?"

Millicent gathered her wits back together. "It's because I am here with you in school, in eighth year with you, and no one should take particular notice if I am seen speaking for a short time with you. Secrecy is the largest reason why father chose me. Either of my brothers could be noticed or missed. And that would be very bad."

Millicent was starting to look agitated. Just like every other female ex-Slytherin, she usually was expressionless unless talking with her friends. To see her this frazzled was interesting.

"Lord Potter-Black, could we please, please, continue this conversation in a place of privacy without anyone knowing we are talking? If anyone sold word to my family's enemies that we were possibly approaching you for help, my father and I believe that we would be attacked quickly and brutally."

The word attacked suddenly focused the trio's attention back to Bulstrode.

Harry thought for a moment. "Hermione, what are Bulstrode's strengths as a witch?"

"Well Harry," Hermione slowly replied, "she is decent at defense, good at charms, so-so at transfiguration and Neville thinks that she can do well in herbology and she does quite well in Care of Magical Creatures."

"Very well, Bulstrode," Harry directed. "In addition to being on our Quidditch team, you have just volunteered to help Ron finish his quiddich pitch project. In fact, why don't you and him go to that table over there and publically talk about how you two are going to work on finishing up the pitch. After all, many people, including me, believe that without your quick work, placing that last hoop might have become a disaster"

"Ron," he continued, "you have just become the lead negotiator between the Bulstrode and Potter-Black families. Find out what the hell is going on and get back with us."

" _Us. He said us!" Hermione thought._

The pair rose from the table for a couch some distance away from the study table.

Half the common room heard Millicent ask Ron to tell what was left to finish off the pitch since practices had started and how could she help him. Ron's reply became lost in the general back round hum of the room. The couple talked for about fifteen minutes before Ron offered to take Bulstrode out to the pitch where they could actually see what Ron was trying to explain.

In the meantime, Hermione had given up studying her school work and turned her attention to surreptitiously studying her fellow eighth years scattered around the common room. Just because Bulstrode was paranoid didn't mean someone was not out to harm her family. She was just not a good enough actress to fake the fear she had shown while talking to the three of them. After the last years' brutal tortures and deaths against any family members, or even the slaughter of whole families that the Death Eaters accused of being Muggleborns or Blood Traitors, everyone in the wizarding world was keenly attuned to keeping family safe.

Since Voldemort was dead, and all the marked Death Eaters had died with him, who was threatening the Bulstrode Family?

Hermione had a bad feeling that their talk way back at the beginning of summer of having a nice, normal year might just be disappearing.

Of course that would make it normal.

Later that night.

"Budge over, Harry. I need some sleep."

Harry had just fallen asleep when that demand awoke him to find a blanket draped, Hermione standing next to his bed. Half asleep, Harry did what seven years of Hermione training had conditioned him to do. He did as he was told. He moved over and immediately had a comforting presence cuddled up against his back.

"Goodnight Harry."

"Night Hermione"

Friday Morning started very pleasantly for Harry as he woke to a familiar vanilla-parchment scent combination from the mass of honey brown curls sprawled across his chest.

" _Merlin, Godric and Rowena, how I have missed mornings like this,"_ Harry thought. He could get used to this again. During some of his more brutal nights lately, Harry had recollected how having his witchy nightmare catchers had been so restful. His musings immediately popped to Hermione. Suddenly they shifted to Daphne, Susan, Padma and Luna.

He started as he realized that his thoughts had started with Hermione, then jumped to the other Snuggle Witches. _"I'm laying here with Hermione draped on me and I'm thinking about other girls? Merlin, I am such a bad friend!"_

His follow up thinking was interrupted by a stretching, nuzzling Hermione as her logy brain heaved itself over the waking horizon.

" _Merlin, this is wonderful," she reflected as she realized her pillow was Harry's shoulder. "Wonder if I could just overwhelm him with lust if I pushed for sex on a morning like this?" she thought indolently._

That thought blew away the pleasant fog in her brain and she stopped her rubbing and stretching and abruptly slid away from her blanketed bodily contact with Harry.

Harry keenly felt the loss of contact, muffled as it had been. He raised his head to look at Hermione as she froze.

Hermione could read the expression on her oldest friends face. Puzzlement followed by hurt and rejection.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said quietly. "I do not want to tease. But Bulstrode's problem upset me so I could not sleep. I'm sorry."

Harry did what any good friend would do. He opened his arms wide, reached out and pulled her into a hug.

 **A/N**

 **One: Yes, scarred. Not scared. It is deliberate.**

 **WOW! A whole month passing in one chapter. Some days I astonish myself.**

 **To Reviewer 'Guest': Since I can't PM you.**

 **One: Yes/No, Maybe**

 **Two: No**

 **Three: No**


	23. Chapter 23, Harry trys for Normal Oops

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 23

Standard disclaimer. I make no money off the HP universe

That JK Rowling has gifted us with.

Shall we try Normal today Alice?

Oh, look. A rabbit hole!

 **Apologies. I have spent three weeks without internet and once again failed to edit/update existing chapters. Sorry Alix.**

 **Please enjoy a new chapter, tho'.**

Samhain, 1998

Harry had been so busy, that October 31st had sneaked up on him. It was not until he and Hermione saw the decorations in the Great Hall at lunch that the date smacked into his conscience. Harry, just like many Eights, had skipped coming down to breakfast preferring to have a lie in on this Saturday.

Headmistress McGonagall had decided to reverse decades of Dumbledore's policies and call any shared holiday dates with their wizarding world names. Halloween had reverted to Samhain. Christmas would be three or four days after Yule, and both would be celebrated for those remaining at the castle so as to cross pollinate cultures between Mundane born and/or raised, and the wizards that kept to the old traditions. Christian Easter and Vernal Equinox Ostara celebration was going to be trickier as Easter was an ever changing religious date. Harry had completely missed the Autumnal Equinox Mabon harvest festivals due to his preoccupation with his Wizengamot investiture.

Hermione could actually feel Harry's slump as his guilt over how could he have forgotten what today was and how many bad things had happened to him on this date hit him. She had to practically drag him over to the Eights table and fill his plate for him. Half the students in the Great Hall had seen Harry look like he had taken a bludger, and the buzz rose as everyone voiced their theory as to what was wrong.

Ron thudded down onto the bench across from them and Daphne, Tracey, Susan and Padma all shifted down to see if they could help.

"What happened?" demanded Ron.

"What hasn't happened on this day, Ron." she snapped back. "Troll in the castle, a basilisk petrifying cats, Sirius Black carving up the Fat Lady, Harry's name coming out of the Goblet of Fire. And oh, yeah, his parents murdered by Tommy Boy seventeen years ago. People who danced in the alley and celebrated his first downfall for a decade and a half forget about that."

"Kind of a sucky day in Potter history, wouldn't you agree?" as she laid the sarcasm on thick.

It took Ron a minute but he soon achieved Weasley ripe tomato red.

"Sorry Harry," he muttered. "Forgot."

"S'alrigh'," Harry muttered back not looking up.

Hermione tapped him on his shoulder to get his attention. "After lunch we will get the Headmistress to make us a portkey to Godric's Hollow and we will go visit them later. That sound like a plan?"

Harry nodded in acquiescence and managed to chew on some melon that she forked into his mouth. Some toast and a bit of scrambled egg later, a partially functional Harry was hauled off to the library. At least today he was surrounded by friends who had heard Hermione and wanted to lend him support.

It was later that evening as the sun was sinking towards the horizon that a group of nine people suddenly popped into existence in a lane just outside of Godric's Hollow. They walked around the village square to where a partially destroyed cottage had stood. They could also see that a monument to soldiers of the Mundane World Wars was being restored.

"Damn," breathed Hermione. "McGonagall was right. That bastard sent his scum here to destroy any reminder that he could be beaten. The cottage is nothing but a stone floor and rubble, and the Potter's statue is gone. I hope . ."

Following her, the group turned and headed to the village cemetery. The fence was knocked down in several places with the kissing gate at the entrance strewn on the ground. Even from where the gate had been Harry could see the vandalism that had terrorized the cemetery. Harry's knees started to give way when two pairs of strong arms grabbed him.

"Neville?" spoke Hermione over her shoulder. "Could you take the others and see if those bastards left anything standing back at the cottage? I believe Harry would appreciate some privacy."

In silence Neville, Luna, Ginny, Daphne, Susan and Padma all reached in and touched Harry before turning and slowly walking back to the destroyed cottage.

With his two friends supporting him as they often had in the past, the trio slowly worked their way over to where Hermione remembered the Potter family grave sites.

The graves had been violated. (1) There was no other term. The headstone had been turned into coarse gravel with evidence of the blasting curses used leaving huge divots in the ground.

The pair of friends gently let Harry sag to his knees. Hermione started immediately muttering as she cast multiple charms on the ground.

In less than a minute, she turned back to Harry who still had not looked anywhere except at the graves as tears freely coursed down his face.

"Harry? Harry!" she insistently spoke to get his attention. "They did NOT get through the enchantments laid on the gravesite. The damage is only on the surface. Your parent's bodies were not desecrated. They're all right under there Harry." She twisted his face around until she could look him in the eyes. "They are all right."

As Harry recovered from the shock, he KNEW his parents were all right. This wanton malevolence had been performed before he had asked his parents to come to him in the Forbidden Forest that night. They were safe, wherever they were.

"It's okay Hermione," he rasped. "Our loved ones are always with us."

At that, Hermione collapsed sobbing next to Harry, and now he had to hold her up.

Ron was still standing through all this even though the wreckage made him sick to his stomach.

Seeing that Harry and Hermione were beyond talking to for a while, he turned and quietly approached the other six.

"If we give 'em a few minutes, they'll be alright," he said. "Meanwhile, what can we do to fix this bloody mess?

"Language, Weasley!"

Ron merely rolled his eyes and started looking around with an eye that had been honed by fixing a Quidditch pitch.

"I am going to speak to Kingsley about the cottage and the statue. We could do something, but it would take finesse and we're only young looking students. The locals would probably get the mug . . mundane aurors to arrest us. How about we do some fix-up work on the cemetery?"

The seven looked at the gate, fence and cemetery destruction, at each other, and started drifting towards the shambles. Some quick _Reparo_ work on the fencing, some Featherlight Charms with _Wingardium Leviosa,_ more _Reparo_ and most of the other vandalized headstones work was done. Daphne placed some cascading, disappearing _Confundus_ charms so the mundanes would not realize the work had occurred overnight, and with Neville and Luna performing magical miracles with the plants and grass, in less than fifteen minutes the work they felt they could do was completed.

Darkness had fallen as the cemetery drama was being played out. There was only the Potter gravesite to fix. Ron and Luna helped stand Harry and Hermione up. The others soon had the site looking normal again. A conjured headstone was placed on the graves, Padma did the transfiguration to include the original words, and after a moment of bowed heads, everyone grasped the portkey, and was whisked away back to Hogwarts.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Later that night, Hermione opened the suite door in response to a polite knock. There in front of her was a lavender blanket holding, cream coloured dressing gown wearing, Daphne Greengrass. Oddly, what stood out to Hermione was that Greengrass' face was not wearing her trade-mark Ice Queen façade.

Instead it seemed a mixture of determination, nervousness and . . hope?

"May I come in?" followed by a raised eyebrow.

Still flustered, Hermione stood off to the side and closed the door as Daphne entered and followed her into the sitting room as Daphne gracefully lowered herself into one the armchairs. Hermione sat in the other, deliberately not crossing her arms across her chest because it would make her look nervous and defensive.

After staring at her for several moments, Daphne started the conversation rolling.

"I will assume that our resident hero is going to have a very bad night, say, on par with some of his worst from the summer?"

Hermione looked at her from the other armchair for a moment before nodding.

"Were you planning on helping him as we did during the summer?" inquired Daphne.

"I was going to wait until I know he has a problem," said Hermione in a small voice.

"He is very good at silencing charms, as you know. So, how will you know?" was the reply.

Hermione had no quick retort. Both her and Harry were very good at silencing their rooms and beds. Daphne waited without speaking.

"Fine," came the Hermione huff. "What do you want?"

"I suppose if I said I just wanted to be an angel of mercy, would you believe me?"

This time it was a wordless snort, followed by a cold eyed stare. Mama lion was one short moment away from unsheathing her claws.

Daphne gave a medium, slightly exasperated sigh. "What is Potters favorite sleeping position?"

"Wha . .?" Hermione was so dumbfounded at the unexpected question, she failed in her articulation.

Daphne closed her eyes briefly. "What is Potters favorite sleeping position? You have slept with him more than I have, and _I_ know the answer. Think, Granger. What is it?"

Hermione never could resist answering a question.

"He falls asleep on either side or on his back. Rarely does he sleep on his stomach."

Greengrass slowly shook her head from side to side. "That answer was a load of threstral droppings." She paused for a moment. "It is a pity you have not stayed around the common room for some of the `girl gossip' sessions. Those of us who were Snuggle Witches agree that Harry seems to know what a girl wants even while sleeping."

Hermione's eyes unfocused as she digested this bit of information. She started a slow blush as she realized that while she often started out spooning against Harry's back, she usually woke up with him on his back, with her using his shoulder and chest as a pillow.

" _Damn comfortable pillow too," she thought._

Hermione finally jerked out of her thoughts to see a smirk was growing across Greengrass' face.

"Yes, he does make a comfy pillow, does he not?"

Hermione's blush rapidly deepened as the striking blonde seemed to have read her mind.

"Alright," said the blonde as she stood. "What is he doing right now?"

"Probably standing in the shower as hot as he can stand it in hopes of getting relaxed enough to sleep," was the reply.

"Good. If we are quick, we will be waiting for him when he gives up. Go get changed and ready for sleeping."

Daphne started to turn away, than turned back "Oh, and Granger? Don't wear flannel tonight. I'm not. After all, this bed is not bespelled."

Leaving a gob smacked Hermione Granger standing in the sitting room; a smirking Daphne strolled across to Harry's bedroom door, quietly opened it and stepped in, closing the door behind her.

Hermione stood rocking with indecision as she stared at Harry's closed door. She did NOT want to leave Harry alone with the beautiful blonde seductress. _"But I'm not pretty enough, or busty enough, my bum is too skinny and I can't be as sophisticated as Lord Potter-Black needs me to be."_

" _However Harry is_ your _best friend and he asked_ you _to the Yule Ball. Not her! So suck it up bitch, regrow some backbone. If she wants to try to steal your Harry, nail your colours to the mast and fight back with something attention-getting yourself."_

She whirled and bolted into her room. She spent two whole minutes digging into her wardrobe drawers for a thin strap, dark blue silky camisole and a pair of almost too small, ice blue, satin sleep shorts. She stripped out of her clothes, leaving then strewn across the floor, yanked on her `sleep wear', grabbed a small book and slowly opened the door into the suites shared bathroom.

The sound of the running water came to her from behind the closed shower curtain.

"Harry, I want to brush my teeth before bed. Just stay there in the shower while I take care of them."

"Sure", was the rough voiced reply.

Hermione brushed her teeth for almost two minutes before announcing, "I am done Harry."

Harry acknowledged her with a grunt and she exited out the door into Harry's bedroom.

There _she_ was. Sitting propped up against the headboard reading from a small slim book, her blanket laid at the foot of the bed looking as though it had no intended use tonight. She was wearing a hip length, blue, lace bodice, translucent nighty that exactly matched her eyes and Hermione could see matching silky knickers. Only her perfectly pedicured feet were beneath the folded down blankets.

Since Greengrass was occupying the right side of the bed, Hermione headed over to the left. Trying her best not to glare at the interloper, she sat on the bed, swiveled around and ended up sitting cross-legged looking at the _"Oh, Merlin, she's gorgeous."_ dressed for seduction success blonde.

Indeed, as Hermione now looked closely at Greengrass' face, she could see the evidence of well-coordinated, well placed make-up. Almost un-noticeable eye shadow that enlarged her sapphire blue eyes. Eyebrows just darkened enough to be defined, but still blonde. Just a hint of colour on her cheeks. Not a noticeable blush, just a healthy gleam. Her lips did not look like they had lipstick on. They just looked pinker. And her hair, _"Oh, Maeve!"_ a silken mane that cascaded down with just enough mass in front to frame her breasts as the ends curled inward beneath them.

Hermione wanted to break down and cry then and there. _"How could she possibly compete against this Fleur doppelganger?"_ she thought. _"Bushy mass of plain brown hair, I haven't shaped my eyebrows in months. No make-up, and now damn it, I'm going to cry and become a slobbery looking mess!"_

As every insecurity from her younger years started to overwhelm her, Daphne suddenly leaned forward and lightly grasped Hermione's left knee.

"Stop it, Granger," she said abruptly. "If you break down on me now, I will be seriously displeased." The Ice Queen had been reincarnated.

Hermione stiffened. Her beginning tears vanished. Her warm chocolate coloured eyes instantly became brown flint. " _You'll_ be displeased?" the lioness ground out. The compressed volcano of her emotions that she had been desperately keeping under control for Harry's sake suddenly threatened to blow.

"Yes, exactly," the hiss from the blonde cut off Hermione before a fight started that was going to end badly for somebody.

"Now, let's get you in condition to take Potter's mind off his shitty day, and draw him back from what I am sure will be a very dark place tonight. The object is to make you so gorgeous, he will only think about us. Got it?"

" _Wha . .?"_ Hermione thought.

"First, let's get you looking glamorous. And get your hair somewhat tamed." With that Greengrass reached into an unnoticeable pocket above the hip of her nighty. Out of it she drew a two-inch by one-inch packet made of what looked like fabric.

" _Accio_ wand," she continued. Her wand flew out of her dressing robe's pocket, into her hand. Tapping the fabric square with her wand enlarged it into large pouch.

"First, let's get those eyes looking soft and dewy," Daphne said as she butterfly opened the fabric pouch to reveal a small, but complete looking make-up kit.

"Scrunch closer, Granger. You think I can work with my arms extended away out there?"

Daphne worked quickly. Potter could appear at any moment. Dark bronze eye shadow fading to nothing just above the lid. A quick fluff of naturel looking blush and some lipstick application and Daphne was holding an enlarged mirror to her for inspection.

Hermione could not believe the less than five minute transformation.

"Wait a minute, Greengrass. What is with the bright red lipstick? I wear a rose pink like you."

"Not tonight. Tonight you are sexy Hermione, I am gorgeous Daphne. I want him to remember your lips for days. Now turn around. We need to put at least minimal effort into your hair. You haven't done a thing to it since the cemetery."

On auto-point-me, Hermione turned her back to Daphne as an obviously charmed brush started working its way through Hermione's tangled frizz without yanking at the snags.

Two minutes later the brush was put away and the kit was again shrunken and placed in Daphne's nighty.

With a small sigh, Daphne gently turned Hermione around and looked over her skin showing above the camisole. She gently ran a fingertip over the top of Dolohov's curse scar and some of the small marks and puckers.

"If we had more time I could try to hide much of the scarring."

Hermione shook her head.

"No. Harry has already seen them and he knows how I got them. Every damn one of them."

"Language, Granger."

"Bugger off, Greengrass."

At that point the bathroom door opened and Harry with walked into the bedroom with nothing except a towel wrapped around his hips. He turned without noticing the girls to pull the heavy medieval style door closed, turned and took two more steps before his brain registered the sight, or sights, sitting on his bed.

The sights sitting on his bed registered him also. Hermione was struggling not to look as nervous as she felt. Daphne was struggling not to react to seeing the amount of scarring on Harry's body. Somebody from the Prefect's Bath night had blabbed and it was an open secret among the Eights that Potter was horribly scarred from his fights with Voldemort and the abusive muggles he had lived with. Therefore, Daphne had _some_ warning about how mutilated Harry's skin was.

Warning? Yes.

Jolting reality? Nope.

" _Thank Merlin his back was turned when I flinched_ ," she thought.

"Um, Hermione? Greengrass? What are you doing?" he asked slowly.

Daphne carefully straightened and flipped her hair so as to `accidently' draw his attention to her chest.

"Why, waiting for you, of course." She drawled huskily as his eyes were successfully drawn to her chest before rising to her face as he fought not to stare at her legendary mammaries.

Inside she smirked. _"Well, that completes the first parchment sheet of my to-do list,"_ she thought.

Harry may have been tough enough to keep his eyes above Greengrass' chin, but his peripheral vision was working just fine as his eyes absorbed form fitting translucent lace and exposed creamy skin. In desperation he jerked his eyes over to Hermione. Seeing Daphne he figured he was in trouble. Seeing Hermione, the word figured disappeared. He knew he should look at her face, but he wanted to explore her body with his eyes like a thirsty man in the desert yearns for water.

His resistance crumbled like a _Disillusionment_ charm hit by a _Finite Incatatum._ His eyes slowly traveled the shape of her legs up to where with her sitting cross-legged he could the front of her sleep pants. From there he looked intently at the pointy peak covered swell of her breasts, and finally up to face where he lingered upon her sexy red lips. He finally managed to look into her deer-caught-in-the- _Lumos_ eyes.

The two kept staring at each other, lost to the world. Daphne's internal smirk became a huge external smirk as Harry's body, un-noticed by him, reacted to the stimuli of a pair of near naked girls in his bed. In fact, the reaction was so rapid it loosened the over-lapped portion of the towel so suddenly it started to fall.

With a "Gurk" of fear, Harry frantically grab-clutched at the area where his modesty imperative was in the most danger of failing. Unfortunately, in his haste, his hand coordination suffered and he painfully smacked into the dangling bits of his hardening manhood at a bad angle, causing enough pain to make his knees buckle.

As Harry sagged, Hermione looked on in horror.

Daphne was also looking upon the scene with horror. Just not for the same reason. Her carefully crafted scene of mental seduction without the actual need of a messy physical seduction had just exploded in her face.

" _Morgana, Potter. Does this shite_ _ **always**_ _happen around you?"_ flew through her mind as both her and Hermione untangled themselves, jumped off the bed and quickly gather him in their arms.

It took a couple of minutes for Harry to realize that his pain was becoming a lot less as his focus was diverted to the feeling of two partially silky clad bodied pressing against him, stroking his back as they tried to absorb some of his pain themselves.

He tried speaking but his question came out in a husky whisper. "What are you two doing here?"

After a moment of silence, Daphne just could not resist.

"I came here to seduce you with my evil feminine wiles. Granger just decided to show up and be the chaperone."

Daphne could feel the other two freeze.

"Oh for Morgana's sake," she exclaimed. "Have you two lost all sense of humor? This summer you were acting like long fast friends who were relaxed in each other's company. Lately it seems you are afraid to be friendly with each other in public. Are you at least being friendly in here, in private?"

The only reaction to her rant that Daphne could see was a blush that spread down Granger's neck to her shoulder. _"Huh. I bet her face is so red it could explode. They may not be doing anything but_ she _sure wants to."_

At that point Harry interrupted her thoughts when he ground out, "Would you two please leave so I can get changed and go to bed?"

"Sorry Potter. You can put your jammies on but we are not leaving."

"Sod it, Greengrass!" He shouted. "I want you out of here . . ."

Daphne just overrode his shouting. "No! I saw what happened earlier! You're not going to sleep worth a damn tonight." Daphne pointed at Hermione, "She collapsed also and already matches you with bags the size of school trunks under her eyes. So . . .''

Daphne turned and snatched up her wand lying on the bed.

" _Accio_ Harry Potters sleep wear"

A drawer in the dresser opened and a pair of pajama pants flew from it into Daphne's hand.

"Huh. Interesting. I thought you were sleeping in boxer shorts this summer." She wadded up the pants and threw them at a now standing Harry who fumbled the catch, almost losing the towel.

With a dirty look at Greengrass, Harry picked up his sleep pants.

"For Merlin's sake. Just put the pants on and get in the bed" said Daphne with exasperation showing in her voice.

Harry just glared back and carefully, awkwardly managed to pull the pants up under the towel and into position without exposing anything.

"Bravo, Mr. Potter! For difficulty of execution, ten points. For the silliness of actually doing it, zero points. Do you really think the two of us would have swooned like maidens if we had glimpsed a bit of your skinny white arse?"

Harry's threw a quick glance at Hermione as his memory exploded into several times when each had accidently seen the others normally covered bits in the tent. The glance at Hermione showed Harry she was probably remembering the same times. _"Merlin, she looks so-o-o-o cute when she blushes."_

"Potter! Bed. Now."

Harry started towards the bed when he suddenly stopped and a look of panic bloomed on his face.

"Oh, for Morgana and Maeve's sake!" cried Daphne, raising her hands skyward in supplication. "Will you stop with the stupid fear that we will be repulsed by your scars! I've had it. Get this Potter. Any time you flinch from Granger, myself, Bones, Padma, Tracey, Lovegood or the Weaselette because you think your scars make you repulsive, you have to pay me a galleon."

Harry stood stock still as he tried to puzzle out what Greengrass had said and the girls she had said it about.

"Harry," came the soft voice of his Hermione from beside him. "Those girls are all your friends and have seen your scars. Not one of them has refused to be your friend because they have seen them."

Harry let the tension seep from his body as Hermione took his hand and led him over to the bed. He watched as Daphne reached down to pull the blankets up making it very obvious that she was not going to sleep outside of them under her own blanket. He carefully eased onto the bed, finally deciding that if he was flat on his back, he would not be looking at either of them. He felt Hermione ease her way onto the bad as he stared at the canopy over his head.

After half a minute of nobody moving, Daphne huffed.

"Granger," she said in a resigned voice. "Roll over on your side. Potter, roll and spoon against her back."

As they complied, Daphne rolled and spooned against Harry's back, making sure wrap her arm around his lower chest so to mash her chest tight against him as she tightened her grip. Ultimately, the long term tension of the day caught up with the exhausted teens and to everyone's surprise, they were asleep within ten minutes.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Harry's brain stirred awake. With the morning sun streaming through his eyelids, his body was starting to send messages to his brain. First was that he was buried under a . . . furry bear? That smelled of vanilla and mint? No, it was apple blossoms with mint.

He squinted his eyes open to see a tangle mass of honey brown hair with his left eye, but a silken fall of gold was blocking most of his right eye view. His body then informed his brain that there was a head snugged onto each of his shoulders. _"That feels nice,"_ he thought.

Moving was going to be problematic as two weights, _"Ah, must be legs."_ were settled onto each of his legs. _"Hmm, and that extra push into his lower ribs must be a boobie. Each. And that feeling across my stomach must be their arms"_ As the memories from last night flooded through his mind, Hermione, Daphne, sexy sleeping lingerie, a panicking Harry tensed his muscles to try to rise up, a voice suddenly growled against his chest.

"You rudely disturb my comfy pillow again and you _will_ regret it."

Harry froze.

"Be still, be silent. We have no classes today," the growl continued.

As his fore brain caught up with his hind brain, Harry slowly relaxed and settled back into the mattress.

Unfortunately, he was able to only stay calm for about a minute as another male problem reared its head. Literally.

" _No, no, no, no! Stop, stop, stop!"_ was racing through his mind as panic bloomed again. Harry Junior started tenting of his sleep pants and then to his horror, slid through the fly opening and continued tenting the blanket until with a slight 'thap' Harry Junior landed on the left side of his belly, its head resting on Daphne's forearm after brushing Hermione's thigh during its fall.

" _Oh, Merlin, I'm going to die. They're going to kill me!"_

In the meantime . . .

Hermione and Daphne were finding themselves in an unforeseen position. After the initial wake up, the two had stared at each other across Harry's chest. For once, Hermione's eyes had the calculating look in them whilst Daphne was attempting to hide her unease at where last night's brashness had now placed her.

Suddenly, Hermione broke eye contact and without moving her head, shifted her look down Harry's body. The look on her face drew Daphne's attention that way just as Harry Junior reached his vertical apogee and flopped over. Both girls grew wide eyed at what had occurred, and looked back at each other in confusion. Daphne had engineered the situation last night and Hermione had followed, even if in her confused emotional state, it was to chaperone her Harry against that conniving blonde b . . witch.

Now, they had just been given an awakening as to what could have happened if Harry had been more pushy or if he had decided what they had done had given him permission access to their bodies. Their situation was not going to turn bad, but they had put themselves in a position where it could have.

However, in spite of Harry's restraint they did have a problem. Hermione was becoming aroused, and her perpetual " _If he knows, he will abandon me."_ anxiety was arguing with the urge to snog Harry senseless. Daphne suddenly had a nearly overwhelming urge to see the proverbial `manhood' that was supposed to go into her `womanhood'.

It was a recipe for total misunderstanding.

It only took a few seconds before Hermione's anxiety won out and she froze, frantically working on a graceful exit without hurting Harry's feelings. Daphne's mother had won the in her head debate between `young, respectable witches of breeding' do not have pre-betrothal sex and her urge to throw the blanket off so she could see Harry in all his glory (?), so she immediately switched to feeling guilty about having crossed a boundary in her teasing of Harry.

Seeing the look of consternation forming on Hermione's face and feeling the movement of her arm that lay under hers on Harry's belly, Daphne suddenly reached across Harry and grabbed the far side of Hermione's waist to keep her from fleeing.

"Harry, I want to apologize to you, and I am sure Granger wishes to do so also. I realize I dressed inappropriately as a friend offering comfort to get us all through what I feared would happen to us last night."

She reared up, looking deep into his eyes. Those wonderful, endless depth green eyes. _"Morgana damn it, focus you idiot!"_ she reprimanded herself. "I am sorry Harry," was what she said aloud.

"Hermione?" she continued.

"I'm sorry too Harry. I won't do this again," murmured Hermione.

"So, tonight, we will dress more appropriately, because in spite of everything, I feel great. Best sleep I have had in weeks," Daphne espoused as she switched thoughts in a heartbeat. "You two actually look well rested also. I have not seen _that_ in weeks. I think it will do us all good to keep doing this again tonight."

As she finished, she looked Hermione right in the eye. _"Come on, Granger. You are a strong_ _witch. Fight me for his affections. Do not wimp out on me now!"_ she thought trying hard to get Hermione to `witch up' and not run from her friend now.

Hermione's thoughts were racing. What was Greengrass doing? She could swear blondie wanted Hermione to not let Greengrass steal her Harry away from her. Hermione could hardly make sense of her racing thoughts. Knowing she had to come up with an answer, she instinctively tried to agree without giving a real answer.

"Alright. But just until we get rested. I . . I mean we are not married or anything and people will start gossiping and Headmistress McGonagall will be so disappointed if we are caught. We're professors!" she practically wailed.

"Well, in the meantime, get your professorial derriere into the loo and get ready for your day," Daphne snarked. "Harry can follow you. I'll get dressed and go back to my room to shower."

 **A/N:**

 **One: Quote, "The graves were desecrated by the Death Eaters." Not my original idea.**

 **Someone else wrote that first, but I do not remember the author or story. Sorry.**

 **I actually dislike not being able to credit where I might thieve some idea from.**

 **After all, they were smarter than me first.**

 **A whole chapter, 5,000+ words. All that verbiage and only advanced the story less than a day.**

 **Sigh. It is what it is.**

 **For those who dislike my H/Hr/DG characterizations in this chapter, please remember**

 **this is twenty years ago, and Harry is really in a bind between his desire for Hermione and**

 **his absolute lack of romantic love knowledge. And he is really confused about his growing something with Daphne. Hermione is still crippled by fear of losing her best friend and brutal bouts of wizarding world anti-muggleborn snobbery and "I'm not pretty enough" insecurities.**

 _ **i.e. They are both still stunted emotionally and they still cannot see what is between them**_ **.**

 **Daphne wants to be an Alpha emancipated Slytherin but gets tripped up by a lifetime of culture norms rooted in our early Victorian era.**

 **Crap, My Word document (Chapters) open path is corrupt. No idea how long a fix might take.**


	24. Chapter 24 A problem begins

Granger, we need to Talk

Chapter 24

Standard disclaimer.

JK Rowling owns the rights to all regular Harry Potter universe characters.

I make no remuneration from this story.

It's all so confusing, then some idiot throws

A _Finite_ into the works.

 **And the Author sayeth, "Here be an info dump chapter."**

 **Sorry. When I dig myself into a hole, this one of my outs.**

November was not drama free for Harry. Things became . . interesting.

The morning after Samhain, he had watched as Daphne Greengrass had taken a small package out of her dressing robe pocket and with a wand tap enlarged it. The package contained her school uniform complete with robe and with no seeming embarrassment for Harry's presence, she proceeded to pull her clothes on over her minimal sleep wear. A quick run through with a brush to her hair and she waggled her fingers at him as she sauntered out the door.

That had set the tone for the next week. Hermione and Daphne spent the next week both sleeping in his bed. They both wore long flannel pants and at least a heavy shirt. Harry was not allowed a shirt as they said he was more comfortable without one. There were still moments of great embarrassment as all three of them sometimes awoke with their hands in places their hands should not have been, but no one thought the others were placing them deliberately.

What Harry did not realize was both girls had found they liked to fall sleep with Harry's hand cupping one of their breasts. Neither would embarrass him by doing that while they were in their falling asleep positions, but if they woke in the night and could place his hand on themselves without quite twisting his arm out of its socket, they would.

The three were loath to stop their arrangement as they all slept very well when the girls were wrapped around Harry. After the first week though, Daphne explained the gossip was becoming rampant and she would limit her nocturnal visits.

Hermione then spent more time studying with Daphne in the common room in an attempt to camouflage the growing friendship between the three of them.

Hermione finally admitted to herself that she was going to continue sleeping with Harry because it would probably be her only chance to feel the man she loved holding her through the night. Still, although neither mentioned it, they both were surprised at how much Daphne's presence was missed.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Harry became busy with setting up who would do what parts of the Pub Underground, as his project came to be. Besides getting Turpin, Goldstein and Patil to transfigure the bar, stools, tables, chairs and gaming equipment. He also had to convince Malone and Greengrass to perform charms to make the equipment work, and create the decorations. And lastly, he needed a runes genius to create lighting, and water supply and waste vanishing in the loos. He was still looking for a way to produce "electricity" to power a VHS tape player and large screen projector television. He figured Mundane Movie Night would become very popular.

A seventh year Mundane raised halfblood named Robert Estee, "call me Rob", insisted on volunteering to somehow cage the pub's electronics to prevent them from being magically fried. Hermione and Tracey said they had watched the plumbing enchanters enough to perform the minimal water and waste work needed.

Professor Vector had gently informed him that it would be a good idea to talk with the businesses in Hogsmeade so as not to let them believe that Harry's project would siphon money from their pockets. Assistant Headmistress Vector had already told Harry his pub could only open on Friday nights and Saturday's. After talking with Madam Rosemerta and others in the village, Harry agreed his pub would not be open on scheduled Hogsmeade weekends.

All the NEWT extra credit also meant he, Hermione and Dean Thomas had to sacrifice a Friday afternoon and night taking the wizard raised on what Dean had termed a pub crawl. Second hand shops supplied mundane teenager clothes house elves could easily resize. First flooing into the Leaky Cauldron, ten teenagers bundled themselves into a limousine arranged by Harry through Gringotts. The first late afternoon stop was a cinema and with huge tubs of popcorn and extra-large fizzies, seven wizard-raised teens sat enthralled as the movie Pleasantville, with its themes of acceptance and tolerance, played on the big screen.

The three tried to answer the others questions in the limousine. The questions ranged from "was the little TV(?) like a floo call fire?" Or "Where were the horse carriages?" As the enlarged car pulled up near their first pub destination, the three minders cautioned them to stay close and ignore any suggestions of leaving the group to go join other Mundanes.

The group was expected having been set up by Gringotts and shown to a large table in a section of a newer, large pub containing all types of pub games. As per pub tradition there was darts, bar pool, tables for checkers, dominoes and backgammon. Another room also contained a slew of newer electric games. Two dozen pinball games of all types, Pac-man, car racing games, fighter plane pilot/shooter games. Included was the first person sword hacking King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table which as one might expect, became very popular with the groups medieval mindset.

Harry made sure to point out the various settings and equipment around the pub's rooms and what parts he thought should be incorporated into the project.

After seating, and a round of beer and wine, Harry handed out a dozen twenty pence coins to each of the other students with the admonition to watch a Mundane or Dean play the game to see how it was played.

An hour later, the group was dropped at another pub, but this time the older Mundane man who managed it took them on a backroom tour to show the workings needed to keep a pub going. The various labor tasks, the food and drink supplies, the storage needed, the records that needed keeping and of course, someone had to solve the myriad problems that always seemed to occur.

After profusely thanking the manager, everyone was completely surprised as he hugged Dean and told him he would be sure to tell his Mum that he was looking well and had some fine friends. The group settled around a table for `pub grub' and a talk about all they had seen.

It was at this point Hogwarts' student culture was changed for decades. A problem had cropped up and Mr. Thomas had cursed that it was the fault of the Daemon Murphy that the accident had happened. (1)

Dean's explanation of Murphy's Law and its Corollary was easily accepted by the assembled magicals, especially since a daemon might have something to do with causing the problem. Within a month, the citing of Murphy's Law and the Daemon Murphy was commonplace.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Ron was reporting that Lord Bulstrode wanted a meeting with Lord Potter as soon as possible. Ron told Harry he thought Mils father was pushing for a meeting day _before_ yesterday. He was apparently so desperate that Millicent had been given permission to show Ron the letters she received from her father. Ron was positive he wanted some type of protection from an un-named person or group he feared. And he was being told by the DMLE they were too busy right now. Perhaps in three or four months they could help. Lord Bulstrode was positive the brush-off was due to his family's Dark reputation even though no one from the main family branch had taken the Death Eater mark.

The Veterans dormitory was nearing completion. Most of the rooms were done. The Magnificent Seven had donated half a day for two weekends and the Fabulous Five had only one more half day planned. The Veterans who wanted in had performed yeoman's work getting their space ready for habitation. Their largest problem had been a lack of power, not skill. Their wall construction failure rate had been almost forty percent if Ginny or Luna was not performing the transfiguration work. Fortunately, Hermione had been foresighted enough to have the loos set up during the `plumbing' work months ago.(2)

Already twelve seventh and sixth years had petitioned for space in the Veteran's House. However the members were to remain as affiliates of the House they had been sorted into those many years ago.

Ginny and Luna had been called into Headmistress McGonagall's office and after a stern talking to, each had been offered a Special Prefect Badge with a deep "V" incised in it. The pair then proceeded to shock the Headmistress by refusing the badges. Their explanation that they had some future plans that would keep them from properly carrying out their prefect duties did not sit well with McGonagall.

She gave them a curt farewell and promptly broomed them out of her office. The Badges went to seventh year veterans Rob Estee and Evangaline McReady.

As Head of House both Harry and Hermione were being forced to pay attention to their friend Neville and his growing profile in the dormitory. Apparently Luna and Ginny had walked up to him in the common room and bold as brass had informed him he was taking _them_ as his dates to the Yule Ball. This aroused the ire of many young women in sixth through eighth years as Neville "Snakeslayer" Longbottom was considered a hot commodity and many of Hogwarts older teens were positive they were in the hunt for his affections.

So far the attempts to intimidate the two had been minor and the results had been embarrassing rather than bloody. Apparently, a lot of their school mates could not comprehend that the pair were veterans of the near guerrilla warfare inside Hogwarts last year. Luna and Ginny were wicked fast, dead accurate and had a vast pool of spells they could use. It turned out Luna had spent time while the DA hid in the Room of Requirement to learn some Mundane defense. Ginny was apparently a brawler, learning to never back down from her older brothers, who in turn had taught her some dirty fight moves.

And if the two of them were together . . . .

Rumor was there were now seven `miscreants' doing extra detentions for having accosted the pair after a class. When it was pointed out that using a wand in the halls was grounds for expulsion nowadays, the discussion moved into an abandoned classroom. The only unbiased witness as to what followed was a disillusioned auror who sneaked in before the door was closed. After several shrill, heated exchanges, the group started with hexes. According to what the auror stated in his incident report, the pair dodged the first hexes, pulled their wands and had the seven miscreants stupefied, incarceroused and their wands taken in less than fifteen seconds. The pair levitated them, applied a sticking charm to bodily parts and like floating Hogwarts Express cars, hauled them to McGonagall's office. (3)

It was also considered a great prank because since the spell fire had occurred in an abandoned classroom, the rule against wand use in the halls had not been violated. A smiling Luna had been most useful in pointing that little quirk in the rules to the aurors and the Headmistress.

Those who knew them from the DA just laughed about the incident. Those who did not know them started getting out of the way when Ginny's distinctive dark red and Luna's dark blonde hair were striding through the corridors.

When questioned about what `his girls' had done, Neville would give a huge smirk and remain silent.

Harry and Hermione, being professors, had access to the reports and knew the true story. Hermione did not know whether to be appalled at the girl's actions or satisfied because more people who thought they were untouchably privileged bullies, had gotten their comeuppance. Harry thought the whole incident was hilarious and was proud of his friends.

Harry also knew he was going to be reluctantly forced to have a `talk' with Lord Longbottom. The snogging between him and his apparent girlfriends had gotten a little heavy after a Hogsmeade trip, and when someone had catcalled for them to "get a room", the pair of young women had, with lots of giggling, hauled Neville off to his dorm room and closed the door. And _Imperterbe'd, Silencio'd and Coloportus'ed_ the door for the night.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Ron had been slapped down for wanting Quidditch practice three times a week. No one in a NEWT year wanted to waste that much time. However after some quick try-outs, the Fighting Phoenixes had a team. Ron at Keeper, Mils (Call me Millie and you'll eat this bludger.) Bulstrode and Ernie McMillan as beaters. The chasers were Wayne Hopkins, Isobel MacDougal and Oliver Rivers. After the second practice, the not so talented four agreed that Weasley, Bulstrode and Potter had the best chance of ever seeing a professional contract offer and so planned on trying to make the three look good for the scouts if they showed. Their first `friendly match' would be Saturday, November fourteenth against Hufflepuff, the week after the traditional Gryffindor versus Slytherin match. Everyone figured the Slytherin team to be so abysmal that the school was expecting the friendly to be more entertaining.

Except for Samhain, there had become a normalcy, a rhythm to Harry's weeks. Classes, study, research, teach classes, grade papers, plan lessons, re-plan lesson plans and meeting once a week with his Mind Healer occupied an irreducible forty-seven to fifty plus hours per week. Somehow he had to find time to convince others to plan work on the Pub Underground, actually work on the Pub, practice Quidditch, try to meet with the Black sisters on Wizengamot politics and strategy and lastly put in some time holding the nervous hands of some of the new Lords who had problems with their Houses from Right of Conquest. Ernie in particular seemed to be going spare. The Nott family had two members run afoul of the oath strictures. One was dead, the other had lost their magic

And although she did not know it, one of the Eights was being interviewed during her seemingly innocuous conversations with Harry. He badly wanted to get the question of the Moragaine Family settled at the Winter Solstice meeting of the Wizengamot. According to Halberdmaster, they needed some guidance and stability quickly.

If his sleep had not become immeasurably better due to his nights holding Hermione and/or Daphne and on a couple of occasions, adding Susan or Padma who had asked, Harry was of the belief he would have become a head case, a nutter.

AND to his surprise, he realized he missed just hanging out talking with the blokes. If it was not about classes, studying or project planning, he never just hung out with Ron or Neville or Anthony in the common room chatting about everything or nothing. He had worked his arse off in the castle during the summer and spent hours upon hours learning about his responsibilities as Lord Potter-Black. Yet, those far away days seemed so peaceful, almost idyllic, now.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match was, as predicted, a slaughter even though Ginny caught the snitch after only forty-five minutes. At three hundred sixty points to zero, it was the most lopsided game ever recorded at Hogwarts. The current Gryffindor denizens were not as discrete as the older students like Lee Jordan and the Weasley twins had been. A round dozen detentions were handed out to overzealous party attendees.

The `friendly' Hufflepuff-Fighting Phoenixes match a week later was played differently. It was a straight forward, little fancy strategy, match due to lack of practice time. And the bludgers were charmed to hit a player only two-thirds as hard as normal. The reasoning was a full strength bludger injury could have a player out for weeks or make them miss their OWL or NEWT classes. The specific worry depended upon which team they played for.

The Phoenixes won when Harry caught the snitch at the two hour ten minute mark, three hundred ten to two hundred. The after game party was subdued as everyone knew that while they had won, the play level had been mediocre.

The quote of the night was from A.T. "When did a Quidditch victory become worth only an hour and a half of partying?"

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Harry finally agreed to meet with Lord Bulstrode on Saturday the week after the Hufflepuff Quidditch match. Wanting every advantage he could pull off, the meeting would be at Potter Manor. Ron and Hermione would be accompanying Harry. Millicent would be with her father and her older brother, the Heir Secundus. And surprisingly, Mils had persuaded her father to ask for Daphne Greengrass at the meeting. When pressed, Millicent confessed that she had told her father that if Daphne was not there, Madam Black would then attend the meeting as a further advisor. Harry believed she desperately wanted a friendly face across from her at the gathering.

He was wrong. What he did not know was that Ron would have filled that friendly face position quite nicely. Daphne was there because _Daphne_ wanted to be there.

Even though they would not be at the meeting, the Black sisters plus Teddy and nanny Yula, were among the arrivals at Potter Manor Friday evening just in time for dinner. After a fine dinner cooked by Tilitsy, tea and dessert biscuits were served in the second parlor as the family group desultorily rehashed what little they knew about tomorrow's meeting. Hermione was the first to get up and state that she was going to the Potter library to get some homework done. Harry and Daphne were making to follow Hermione when Andromeda teasingly asked "What was Hogwarts coming to when students were actually studying on a Friday night?" Surprising everyone, it was Harry who said until the Yule holidays, skiving off study and home work just meant it piled up and ruined some other day when it absolutely, positively had to be done.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Harry would sleep well that night, wrapped in the arms of who he was starting to regard as _his_ two lovely witches. The two must have met each other at his door as they entered together.

Daphne looked approvingly around Harry's bedroom. "I must say, Lord Potter-Black, this bed is much more suited to sleeping than that magically enlarged thing back at school."

Hermione was not saying anything as she was embarrassed at having been caught out by Daphne as she walked to Harry's door with obvious intent to stay with Harry tonight.

The trio slept very well, but rose early for breakfast prior to preparing for the eleven o'clock arrival by Lord Bulstrode. The Potter luck held true, for just as the two girls opened the door to leave, they literally ran into Narcissa Black standing with her arm outstretched prior to knocking on the door.

Hermione wanted to sink through the floor in mortification. Daphne, after a moment of severe embarrassment, with a supreme effort managed to school her features into the Ice Queen.

"Madam Black," she said with a respectful bob of her head.

"Miss Greengrass, Miss Granger," Narcissa replied cold eyed as she stepped back to allow the girls to leave.

Hermione also bobbed her head as she scuttled past and followed Daphne a short way down the hall and into Daphne's room. Daphne immediately threw up a silencing charm and then matched Hermione in screaming in frustrated embarrassment.

"What is she doing up here so early?" the both screamed in perfect synchronization.

"I don't believe it! Buggering Morgana, she will probably write my parents!" Daphne wailed.

"She's gonna tell McGonagall, she's gonna tell McGonagall, I know it, I know it," chanted Hermione.

The two kept babbling on for another couple of minutes before starting to wind down.

The girls looked at each other. "What do we do?" they said simultaneously.

"Nothing," replied Daphne. "What can we do? We can't threaten her, we can't run from her, and I made a point of looking up her Hogwarts NEWT's scores." Daphne paused. "She had an Outstanding on her DADA _practical_ NEWT. And that was back when everyone was practicing for the coming war."

Hermione's eyes grew huge. "So you're saying that even if we tried something stupidly malfoy-esque on her, we would probably get hurt."

"Probably"

"Bugger."

The two sat in silence for some minutes.

"I suggest we get dressed, go down to breakfast and pretend like hell it's just another morning," Hermione said.

Daphne just shook her head negatively, so Hermione walked away over to her room to dress for breakfast.

In the meantime . . .

Narcissa rapped on the open door of Harry's room. Stepping into the room she saw Harry sitting on his bed with his back to her, pretending hard that he had not heard the exchange in the doorway. Since he couldn't see her she made no effort to keep a huge smirk off her face.

"I came up to perform one of those Aunt things, and tell you breakfast is ready. However, I see you are awake." She turned away and swept out the door. "Breakfast is being served. Please do not dally."

Her decades trained composure lasted about five strides down the hall. She leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. She could not remember being so enraged in her entire life. And that included when Harry as Lord Black had impugned her honour out of ignorance last summer. More than anything in the world she wanted to go and slowly, and as painfully as possible, kill his relatives. As her anger ebbed some, her thoughts swung to how could this young man hold up under what would be a continuing decades long struggle to save magical Britain from itself.

Actually she knew how. It was just that sometimes intellect and decades of societal conditioning clashed and made even an obvious answer hard to accept.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Promptly at eleven o'clock, the floo flared and Lord Picinicus Bulstrode, his son and Millicent exited one after the other. After Tilitsy politely removed the inevitable floo ash from their clothes, Lord Bulstrode formally introduced younger son Grenadier and Millicent. Harry in turn introduced the Order of Merlin Designates Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger and the Heiress Greengrass.

Harry next showed his guests to the small dining room. The table had been reduced to only four people long and Harry and his party walked around the table and sat along its far side. Harry sat in the more elaborate chair with Ron to his right and Hermione and Daphne to his left.

It was an aristocratic way of telling the Bulstrode's who was his Shield and who was his Sword.

Ron, before sitting, guided the Bulstrode's into their chairs with Lord Bulstrode across from Harry, Grenadier across from Ron and Millicent across from Hermione.

The two men stared across the table at each other for ten or so seconds. Harry saw a taller than average, broad shouldered man of early middle years with a few grey strands in his dark brown hair and trimmed beard. His brown eyes were almost buried in eye crinkles that appeared to be from squinting too much. His hands were large, broad and heavily calloused.

Harry made a small gesture with his hand and said, "You requested this meeting Lord Bulstrode. Proceed."

Lord Bulstrode was obviously nonplussed by Harry's direct approach. Watching his face, Harry figured he had just _Bombarda'd_ Bulstrode's opening conversation feelers to flinders.

It took Lord Bulstrode a few seconds to gather his scattered thoughts. "As you know, My Lord, the Ministry's Auror Corps is, supposedly, very busy with keeping social order and investigating all the crimes from when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named controlled the Ministry." He paused and his face took on the look of a man making an irrevocable decision he did not want to make.

"I am the Lord of a Minor House, with no seat on the Wizengamot. It is a House with a long, and sometimes distinguished, history. We have made a living from the sea for centuries. Our Family has owned Castle Beag Targe and most of the village of Groghabste for over eight hundred years. The castle is small, the village is small and the harbour is small. Fishing is not a way to be wealthy, but it is a way to make an honest living. It has become less remunerative of late as most fishing grounds off the west coast have been depleted by over-fishing."

"Like many, we did not support He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, yet we did not want to become quarry by being named Blood Traitors or allies of the Light. And because we could be removed at any time, we were mostly ignored in the chaos.

"After you killed Him, like most everyone, we rejoiced."

"Millicent has since informed me of the true price paid for our ability to rejoice."

Another pause.

"Then in late July, my father, then Lord Bulstrode, received a notice that he was to turn over something very precious, our greatest Family secret, to the sender of the message, or he would start `removing' family members."

Lord Bulstrode paused in his narrative. "Father took the message seriously. We started upgrading the warding of the castle at night. Our fishing boats left after dark with larger than normal crews. We made it Family Duty to not travel alone. We called upon Lord Kirkwood at the DMLE to give us some help."

At that point Picinicus stopped his tale. Harry could see the man was reining in his temper, consciously relaxing the fiercely clenched hands on the table top. "Lord Kirkwood was not disposed to take our complaint as an emergency. He had his own problems and the concerns of an out-of-favor PureBlood Family was not going to change his mind."

"Father and I thought our precautions were working until he was assassinated in early August. His body was left on the floor of the castle entryway. No one saw how it happened." Picinicus briefly closed his eyes as he opened the memory. "Someone used the Entrails Expelling Curse on him."

The three across the table could not stifle the gasps of dismay and horror. That curse had been popular with the Death Eaters due to its shock value and lethality. Daphne was both saddened for, and angry at, Mils for not telling her what had happened. She had known the grandfather had died, but Mils had explained it away as naturel causes.

"The next missive that came at the end of the month was addressed to me, and after restating what the sender wanted, it was written that the `blood price' for our earlier refusal was now an example every two weeks." Faces around the table were set like stone.

"Two weeks later, my Aunt Mathilda was found in her locked, warded bedroom. Her throat had been cut." No gasps followed that bit of horror. Everyone had known something awful was going to be revealed. "Two weeks later, I received an owl post stating that the seven men on one of our fishing boats would not be returning to port. However they had bought me fourteen weeks, or until Yule to turn our secret over. It was not a bluff. The boat never returned."

The Lord Bulstrode stopped talking and stared at Harry. After a minute he spoke again.

"My Lord Potter-Black, I should not admit it, but I am at a loss. I cannot think of anything I own that you might want. My daughter has assured me that offering her as a betrothed would be thrown back in my face. We have no influence in the Wizengamot, as besides a dislike for politics, we have not been wealthy enough in decades to afford the bribes needed for political influence. I cannot even offer our secret, as to you it would be it would be as a knut tossed in a pile of galleons. Yet to us, we are the stewards of a nine hundred year old secret that would affect the realm of magic in the country."

"Perhaps I and my family are too prideful about our secret. Yet sometimes honour in doing, or in performing an almost duty to our country, not the Ministry, but duty to the people in our country, makes our lives worthwhile."

The Lord Bulstrode again paused for many seconds. Then, "I, and my family, are down to three stark choices. First, let my family members be killed by barbarous men. My second choice is to give the barbarians what they want, and hope they leave us alone when next year arrives."

Lord Bulstrode scrubbed his right hand across his face. "My third option is to find a hero. Someone with a hatred of evil, and the power to do something about it."

 **A/N:**

 **One: Murphy's Law. "What can go wrong, will go wrong." Corollary: "And at the worst possible time."**

 **The Daemon Murphy I think might be from Brian Dailey's the Doomfarers of Coramonde.**

 **Or maybe somewhere in Eric Flint's 1632 series.**

 **Two: Set up in Chapter 11.**

 **Three: Sort of stolen from "When did the Ice Queen get so Flirty?" by Elsbeth Ravensblood.**

 **I actually got permission to use part of her Daphne characterization later in the story. It is my favorite type of story to read. I kept breaking out in giggles, chortles and fits of laughter whilst reading. My wife banished me to the bedroom as I was annoying her because she wanted to watch TV.**

 **(Remember, fifth wheel trailer? No room for a man cave. Or a writing room. Suckage.)**


	25. Chapter 25, Something Stupid and Honour

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 25

Disclaimer:

I make no financial remuneration from this writing.

All recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling.

"Please, tell me I did not do something stupid."

"Nope. Can't do that."

" _Perhaps I and my family are too prideful about our secret. Yet sometimes honour in doing, or in performing an almost duty to our country, not the Ministry, but duty to the people in our country, makes our lives worthwhile."— Lord Picinicus Bulstrode._

As Lord Bulstrode stopped speaking, Harry clamped down upon his instinct to start asking questions. Instead he kept closely peering at him. He badly wanted to tell the man he was not a hero, not a mercenary and had had enough fighting evil gits to last a lifetime. Yet, people had, and others were going to die shortly and the desperate man across from himself believed he had run out of other options.

Harry sat back in his chair. "I have a question. Before going further, I want to know if your secret is animal, plant or mineral. I may want another expert here to advise me."

All of Harry's side of the table could see that he had asked a question the Lord did not want to answer. Still, he knew the question was going to be asked sometime, but like most people, had hoped it would not be asked until the bitter end.

"Animal," was the bitten off reply.

"Thank you.

"Tilitsy," he said. As she appeared he spoke to lord Bulstrode. "Please escort our friends to the small lounge and bring them refreshments. Return here afterwards.

As the Bulstrode's left the room, Harry turned to Hermione and cocked his head.

"Luna," she said immediately. "Hagrid if we cannot find her."

With a nod, Harry agreed and released his wand from its holster.

" _Expecto Patronum!"_ and a silvery stag sprang from the wand tip. " _Luna, I'm sending a house elf for you. Need your council."_

And with a silvery swirl Prongs galloped through a wall. Tilitsy reappeared a few seconds later and Harry gave her instructions to go to Hogwarts and bring Luna Lovegood back immediately.

What followed would be recounted for years as a cautionary tale about;

One, being friends with Harry Potter and

Two, be very careful about the instructions you give a house elf.

Meanwhile . . .

Luna was lying on her side, cuddled against Neville's chest as their bodies wound down from an intense snogging session in his room. He was stroking his fingers through her hair and she would occasionally place a soft peck against his sweaty chest.

Her thoughts were just floating along as she reflected on just how she had ended up in this position.

Ginny and her had become very close during their concealment in the Room of Requirement. Most of the girls hidden in the Room had been forced to become friendly, even across House lines, because it became apparent that being a loner was a nonstarter. And being intelligent, the pair realized regular male-female teen attraction, love or lust games, would probably become poisonous because there was nowhere to go for separation if the relationship went sour. It would be far worse than breaking up with someone from your own house.

During one of their marathon talk sessions that year, they both had decided their friend Neville Longbottom had become quite fanciable. He was a leader who exuded toughness. And his quest to become a tough fighter had transformed him from a soft, pudgy boy into a man-hunk with rippling muscles.

The pair became two of Neville's top lieutenants in the new DA and constantly worked closely with him.

After the Battle, they had parted ways just like most of the DA, occasionally exchanging letters. But when Ginny found Neville was working hard on the greenhouses with Professor Sprout, she had immediately owled Luna who shortly thereafter showed up at the castle. Ginny may have worked long hard hours during the summer as a transfiguration specialist with little time left to see Neville, but Luna's charms workload was spottier and allowed her time to work closely with Neville again.

Once school had started, the three of them shared most of their classes, as except for Neville's advanced Herbology course, he was taking a fairly standard NEWT courses classes load. They shared Transfiguration, Charms, Potions and Runes. Luna also was taking Care of Magical Creatures. For Neville it was Estate Management and Business Practices. Ginny was taking Quidditch and her Gryffindor captaincy as seriously as a class.

None of the three needed to take DADA class as they had tested out at 'O'. Ginny personally thought it was Outstanding that all three had lived. She personally never wanted to fight another witch as powerful as Bellatrix Lestrange again. Ever. Diary Tom and Bellatrix were the stuff of her nightmares.

It had taken them four weeks of study sessions and mutual homework help to get Neville used to the idea that he was a young man of romantic interest. Then, almost another month to bring him around to the notion that they were both interested in being his girlfriends.

At the same time.

It took some intense kissing and cuddling sessions to really get him on the broom, but he was firmly aboard when the pair of witches announced to him and a _very_ attentive Eights common room that he would be taking both of them to the Yule Ball, and the coming weekend was reserved as a date elsewhere than Hogsmeade.

The date had been a success. Turpin had given him the name of the only upscale restaurant and night club in Diagon Alley. They all dressed for the occasion, the food was excellent and Neville managed to remember some of his dance steps from the fourth year.

Three happy, friendly magicals apperated to outside the main gate just before curfew. As Neville started to escort the pair back to their dormitories, they gently informed him, with many interspersed kisses, that they would be going the Eights dorm, to his room, and they would be there all night.

Neville never did remember the walk to his room. But he would remember the follow up kisses, the partial undressing, three sets of wandering hands, and the promise that he was going to enjoy this.

And he had.

That had occurred three weeks ago. Today, Ginny was running her Quidditch team ragged in an intense practice as winter was closing in. Luna had happily wished her good luck and after a late breakfast in the Eights kitchen, had returned to Neville's room ostensibly to retrieve her books. Her actual purpose was to get some one-on-one boyfriend time. Sharing was wonderful in its own way, but sometimes a girl just wants all her boyfriend's attention.

Ginny could snog him silly tonight. Right now, Luna wanted Neville to take her aroused body and turn it into a puddle of satisfied goo.

It took an hour and a half and some surprise orgasms, but she achieved her goal.

And now, resting in the most wonderful after glow in the world . . .

A message patronus shaped like Harry's stag zipped through the wall and opened its mouth.

"" _Luna, I'm sending a house elf for you. Need your council."_

Just as the patronus dissolved a well-dressed house elf popped into Neville's bed grabbing Luna's hand.

" _Master ordered me to bring Miss Luna to him immediately. We must go now!"_

And with a faint pop of house elf apparition, Luna disappeared.

After a little more than ten seconds, Tilitsy reappeared in the small dining room holding Luna's hand. It took Harry a moment to realize that Luna was only wearing a small pair of bright yellow knickers.

It took Harry one of the longest seconds of his life to stop staring at Luna and spin around so his back was to her. Hermione and Daphne were even slower on the uptake, mainly because they were flabbergasted as they viewed the physical evidence showing on Luna's body as to what she had been doing. Her skin was so pale and fine that little bite and suck marks stood out like Crumple Horned Snorkaks at a field mouse convention.

"Tilitsy, please give Miss Luna a dressing robe. NOW!" Harry never yelled at house elves. But here his anger was from unconsciously trying to cover his embarrassment at what he had done to Luna.

A finger snap from behind him told him that Tilitsy had clothed Luna and it was probably safe to turn around. He had just started when . . .

"HARRY POTTER! YOU HAD BETTER HAVE AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS! AND SINCE NEVILLE KNOWS WHAT YOU HAVE DONE, I AM SURE HE WILL COME UP WITH WAYS TO KILL YOU SLOWLY! VERY SLOWLY AND VERY PAINFULLY!"

"AND I SHALL EAT FAIRY CAKES AND SMILE PRETTILY AT HIM WHILE HE DOES IT!"

The three of them were stunned. Even Harry, whom Luna had yelled at just before the Battle, was shocked. If it came to a Howler competition with the reigning champion Molly Weasley, the champ was goin' down hard.

Meanwhile.

Neville "Snakeslayer" Longbottom, The Longbottom of Longbottom, was hurriedly making plans to kill, or at least maim, his best friend.

First he hurriedly dressed himself, grabbed his book bag and stuffed it with Luna's left behind

clothes. Then snatched his wand off the bed stand and grabbed the Sword of Gryffindor from over his desk.

"Kinsey!" Three seconds later, the house elf assigned to Harry and Hermione popped into existence.

"Young Master Snake Slicer called Kinsey?" the elf squeaked.

Neville resisted a face palm. "Yes. I need you to apperate me to Potter Manor. Can you do that?"

Kinsey's eyes became large and still as he seemed to consider the idea. "No, Master Snake Slicer, I cannot take you through the manor wards.

Neville thought for a moment. "Can you take a message to Lord Potter-Black or to his Chief House Elf?"

The elf's demeanor lit up as he said, "Kinsey can be taking message to the Lord's elf Tilitsy."

"Very good. Here is the message." " _Lord Potter-Black, kindly send your elf to bring me to Potter Manor immediately or I shall probably become even more unhappy with you than I am now."_ "Do you understand the message Kinsey?"

The little guy bobbed his head enthusiastically as with ears flopping he snapped his fingers and popped away.

At Potter Manor chaos was starting to reign. Luna was glaring at Harry, Hermione and Daphne had spun around and were glaring at Harry. Ron was desperately trying to not look at anybody.

And of course, right then, Millicent walked into the doorway and hesitantly said that hearing all the noise, she had been sent by her father to see if there was a problem.

And with impeccable timing . .

"Master Harry?" said Tilitsy as she popped into the room with another elf Harry recognized as Kinsey. "Elf Kinsey has a message for you from the Snake Slicer Lord."

" _Oh, Merlin, Don't tell me."_ He thought. "Um, Luna? Were you, um . . by chance, with Neville before you, um . . came here?"

"YES, LORD POTTER-BLACK, I WAS!"

Luna's volume control was still set on eleven. (1)

" _Not Harry anymore? Ouch,"_ flitted through his mind.

Hearing Kinsey recite Lord Longbottom's message, had Harry sending Tilitsy off to apperate Neville to Potter Manor.

Tilitsy appeared with an obviously girded for violence Lord Longbottom. Wand in his right hand, the Sword of Gryffindor in his left, and a ferocious scowl on his face. Seeing an open-handed Harry who desperately looked as if he wanted to be elsewhere in front of him, he slowly turned around.

Ron looked concussed. _"He looks normal,"_ Neville thought. Of the four other women in the room, Hermione and Greengrass managed to look both confused and pissed. Mils Bulstrode just looked confused, and his lovely girlfriend was wearing a dressing gown like they were robes of state.

"Lovely Heiress Lovegood. Are you well?" Neville spoke in a most cultured voice that was at odds with the raging look on his face. The tone brought stunned looks on everyone's faces. _"Why do they always seem surprised that Neville Longbottom can act as PureBlooded as anyon_ e?"

"Milord Champion, I am quite well," was the cultured unflappable reply.

"Very well Milady." Neville made a slight bow in Luna's direction. "Is there perhaps a service I could perform for you as I am here?"

"Why yes Milord Champion, there is."

Neville cocked a polite eyebrow quizzically.

Luna pointed with her chin at Harry. "Could you maim, or at least produce great bodily harm upon that personage over there?"

Lord Longbottom gave a courtly bow. "As Milady wishes."

Neville turned to Harry and started advancing on him, wand pointing negligently to the side and the Sword of Gryffindor oscillating in small circles in front of him.

Harry meanwhile was retreating around the conference table to put it between him and the advancing bloody-eyed, mob-handed Snakeslayer. He was in a quandary. He did not want to start a spell fight with his good friend and in a physical fight, Harry was outweighed by a couple of stone and was not carrying a damned sharp magical sword!

It was while pondering his quandary, Neville closed in and with no warning suddenly slashed the Sword down through the table neatly cutting it in two. As the table folded on itself, Harry moved to his right to get out of the trap of being behind the table.

Quick as a striking snake, the tip of the Sword poked through his robes, stabbed Harry in his left buttock.

"YEE-IPES! Bloody hell Neville! That sodding hurt!"

"Oh, man up you big baby. That is hardly even a scratch."

Neville switched his attention to Luna and with an exquisite posh tone inquired. "Is that sufficient chastisement, Milady?"

Luna rolled her eyes heavenward and huffed. Her sarcasm dripping reply was, "Well, I suppose it will just have to do."

At that point, Hermione screamed. No words, just screamed as she looked at Harry. Wands appeared in hands as everyone whipped around looking for some terrible threat.

"H-h-h-arry!" she stuttered out just above a whisper, "how are you still alive?"

A look of puzzlement spread over Harry's face. "He really only poked me a bit, Hermione. It's not like . . " Harry's eyes widened as he whipped around to look at Neville.

"Nev," he said as he began to waver, feeling faint and nauseous, "is that the real Sword of Gryffindor?"

Neville did not answer. He stood staring at Harry. Ron started making gasping noises.

Harry tried again. "Lord Longbottom, the actual sword is imbued with basilisk venom from when I stabbed that damned snake second year. That's why it was needed to kill that damned snake of his, Nagini."

At that moment Ron grabbed Harry around the waist as he started to sag a bit.

Apparently Neville caught on at that moment.

"So, Lord Potter-Black, are you telling me that if this is the real Sword of Gryffindor, you are going to die in about thirty seconds?"

Harry Nodded mutely.

"Well, Milord this is a luckier day than you thought. Your companion, Miss Granger told me at the first funeral about how dangerous the blade truly was."

"This, he said lifting the bloody point upward, "happens to be a copy."

The realization that Harry was not going to die washed over the horcrux hunt trio. The shared looks of relief did not need any words.

Lord Picinicus Bulstrode was a very confused man at the moment. He and his son had stepped into the room just in time to see Lord Longbottom cut what he figured was the now ex-conference table in two with a great, glistening sword. He then proceeded to stab Lord Potter-Black in his arse with said sword, and with the tip dripping blood, he was asking some girl wearing a dressing gown if stabbing Lord Potter-Black was enough "chastisement".

The young woman introduced as Hermione Granger, ("She will be the one you will have to convince, Father.") had screamed and then hurried over to Lord Potter-Black, who was now trying to twist around to examine his damaged buttock. The Heiress Greengrass was starting to turn her wand towards Neville when the dressing gown wearing blonde calmly said, "Accio wand," and a wand flew from the book bag on Lord Longbottoms back into her hand.

"No, no, no, Daphne," said the small blonde calmly pointing her wand at Greengress' face. "This is not the time to interfere in in business between two powerful Houses. Your trying to help will only make things worse."

Daphne stopped her attempt at using her wand and booted her brain into actually thinking. _"This is not good. If Longbottom wants to press this, it could dissolve into a Blood Feud_. _And I will bet a sickle to a galleon that Harry does not realize just how bad this could get."_

With a slight head nod to Lovegood, Daphne strode quickly over to the still clinging trio.

"Silencing charm, now, Hermione."

A second later and a bubble of quiet surrounded the trio.

"Harry, stop trying to look at your arse and listen. Do you realize you just used your house elf to kidnap Lovegood right out of Longbottom's bed? Probably in the middle of, well since she still had her knickers on, I'm guessing a heavy snog session. Do you have _any_ idea how serious this is?"

Harry quit trying to rub the sting from his bleeding buttock, and pay attention to Daphne. He flipped a quick glance at Ron and Hermione whose free hand was covering her mouth under her widening eyes.

Harry hit instant worried. If his two girls were freaking out over what was happening, this was more serious then Neville poking him with a sword. A quick look at Neville showed him merely standing there staring at Harry while Harry's blood dried on the sword in his hand.

" _Alright. Got it. Luna's really upset, Neville almost accidently killed me. How do I fix this?"_

"Are they truly your friends, your comrades, your brother and sister in arms?" was Daphne's question.

"Yes. They are two of the five I would unhesitatingly have at my back when AK's are flying," Harry replied.

"Then you better abjectly grovel. Immediately, and with great heaps of humble pie to the Lady and her Champion."

Harry hesitated a moment.

"Do it now Lord Potter-Black! You kidnapped her out from under his nose _in his freaking bed,_ and no matter that he probably knows it was an accidental foul-up by you, she is demanding satisfaction!"

"Harry, she is right. Do it now," Hermione said. A grunted agreement came from Ron.

Harry stepped outside the silenced bubble and strode over to Luna.

With a deep courtly bow, Harry started. "Heiress Lovegood, I am so very, very sorry for any slight you have suffered at my hand. Would you please inform me how may I make amends for my behavior?"

He looked up into her silver-blue eyes. Usually those eyes were wide with her spacey act, her wonder at the world, or her `me prank you?' look of innocence. Now they were narrowed orbs of fiery sapphire.

"Harry, you do not have to make further amends to me. My Champion, however has suffered a large slight upon his honour in having me spirited away from him. There is your real problem, Harry."

Harry slowly turned to look into the stone face of his Brother in Battle.

Standing in front of Neville, with a deep bow, Harry again started. "Lord Longbottom, I apologize unreservedly as to my unthinking acts that have led us to our current predicament. I would be grateful if you could find it in yourself to inform me as to how I may recover your trust in me."

There was a loud gasp from the direction of the doorway. Harry did not dare to turn and see who had broken the silence in the room. He knew he had just offered an open-ended pass for gold and favors to another Lord.

Neville Longbottom had been raised by his grandmother who constantly tutored him in the ways of the aristocratic PureBloods. For the act that Harry had inadvertently caused his house elf to perform, Neville could demand anything from a more public apology to a fortune in gold, to a duel to the death. His pondering slid to a halt as an evil thought occurred. He checked it over, and outside of it being an unconventional request, it would _forever_ cause _Harry_ embarrassment.

"Very well, Lord Potter-Black, the benefit owed House Longbottom is this."

Neville struck a heroic pose. "Forevermore if anyone present in this room brings up what happened, you will pay for a round of drinks then and there. So mote be it."

Once again, stunned silence reigned in the room.

Harry slowly turned around to look at everyone. Luna's rant had attracted not only Lord Bulstrode and his children, it had brought the Black Sisters to the room also. Harry slowly kept turning.

Hermione and Ron looked worried, but hopeful that Harry and Neville were not going to fight. Daphne looked relieved.

Lord Bulstrode, his son and Mils looked thoroughly confused.

Tilitsy and Kinsey looked terrified. _(Huh? Oh Merlin damn it. They think they are going to be punished!)_

Andromeda looked neutral, but Narcissa looked incensed _._ Harry sighed. _"Extra sodding lessons_ _coming up.")_

"I thank Lord Longbottom for his understanding and forbearance," Harry said with another bow. "By your leave Milord?" Neville gave a short nod.

He then walked over and knelt in front of Tilitsy. "You did nothing wrong, Tilitsy. I gave you instructions that were wrong. You did exactly what I told you to do. Understand?" Tilitsy nodded rapidly.

Harry looked around. "Kinsey, are you staying or going back to Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts," the relieved elf replied and apperated away.

"Tilitsy, please prepare lunch for all of us in the main dining room. Lord Bulstrode, Lord Longbottom, please join us for lunch. In spite of the chaos I inadvertently created, I still need to hear more of this problem after lunch."

"Hermione?" Harry asked. "Could you please help me with this bloody great gash Snakeslayer carved in me?"

"As long as I don't have to kiss it to make it better," she snarked.

Snorts and titters rippled through the group.

Harry turned to his original guests. "Lord Bulstrode, one of my friends will patch me up. I shall rejoin you in a few minutes. And during lunch, I want you to consider adding Lord Longbottom to your list of people to be let in on your secret. You may not believe how good he is with a wand, but as you have seen, he _is_ handy with a sword."

Tilitsy must have been sneaking into Hogwarts, for as soon as the group entered the dining room, a full Hogwarts lunch was served. Soups, salads, sandwiches, meats and vegetables were all available with pumpkin juice, water or tea.

Harry and Hermione swept into the dining room. Harry sat at the head of the table with Lord Bulstrode on his left and Hermione on his right. From Lord Bulstrode clockwise sat Grenadier, Millicent, Daphne and Narcissa. Andromeda who was seated at the foot of the table with Teddy between her and Luna. Neville was next, then Ron and back to Hermione. Luna spent most of lunch playing with Teddy. Possibly the game they were playing was "who can make the goo-iest mess" with their food. And Harry didn't think Teddy was winning.

The rest of the tables conversation revolved around safe topics such as the new classes they were taking at school and Quidditch.

Lunch drew to an end and everyone knew that decision time was upon them.

Harry took the lead. "Lord Bulstrode, seated here are people I consider my family. We are an extended, perhaps strange family, but we are a gathering of survivors.

"My Aunts," Harry looked to the end of the table where Teddy was doing his smear food, eat food act. "They are considered two of the sharpest political minds extant. You have no idea how much I appreciate they are on my side."

"Heiress Greengrass is scary smart and politically aware. My long-time friend, Miss Granger, while Mundane born, is often referred to as "The Brightest Witch" of her age. Ron Weasley has been with me through seven years of trials and fighting. Usually against poor odds."

"Lord Longbottom is someone who will always have my back. Remember, he carries a wand, a sword and a tough as dragon hide reputation amongst the survivors of Dumbledore's Army."

"The Heiress Lovegood is the most knowledgeable Magizoologist I know, and can keep secrets. I obviously brought her here for her expertise. It was my poor choice of _how_ she was brought here that caused all the kerfluffle."

"I have trusted these people with my life in the past and will continue to do so in the future."

Harry stopped talking and just quietly stared at Lord Bulstrode. Around the table, those pronounced "family" straightened up, sat just a bit taller and swore to themselves they would never fail their family.

Harry waited a few seconds before standing and saying, "Milord, shall we retire to the conference room for further discussions?"

This time the room was set up with seven small but comfortable, red and silver patterned chintz armchairs around a circular low table. The other four chairs were back from the inner circle, set in the gap between the Bulstrodes and the Potter-Black's. They had small end tables between the pairs. All the tables had tea brewed and ready for pouring upon them.

Everyone gathered their thoughts while performing the familiar soothing tea preparation rituals. Finally Lord Bulstrode spoke. "I will understand if you believe I am insulting your friends and family, but could I get you gentlemen to declare what I am about to reveal to be a Family Secret?"

Harry promptly announced that the information from Lord Bulstrode was to be a Family Secret and would not be repeated to anyone except those now in the room. A silvery wave emanated from him across all his `family' members.

Neville and Luna both raised their wands and made the same vow for them individually.

Lord Bulstrode nodded, closed his eyes for a moment and began to speak. "What is the one thing that _all_ potions have in common?" Hermione started to answer, but realized it was a rhetorical question. He continued, "They all have a liquid base into which ingredients are added. We use purified distilled water, potion base, plant oils, acids or rarely, animal blood to be our reagent."

"Have any of you ever been taught at Hogwarts, why you get your cauldron liquid from a barrel labeled `potion base' instead of getting it from a sink tap?"

Hermione immediately answered. "Because the potions might . . ." She stopped, looked at Harry, her eyes widening and her face draining off color. Then she suddenly said, "Lord Potter-Black, I apologize for speaking out of turn," and turned her head to stare at the table.

Harry looked at her for a moment, nodded to himself, and turned back to Lord Bulstrode.

"Please continue, Lord Bulstrode."

"Your . . advisor is correct. Contaminants in the base can affect the purity and therefor the strength, and dose accuracy of a potion. Sometimes ruining the brewing process altogether. This may or may not be news to you, but Millicent has informed me that Snape never once told a class about base preparation."

Lord Bulstrode paused, visibly girding his loins.

"Our large secret is that my family has been the Britannia supplier of potion base infusion for eight hundred years. We . . "

"Oh," Luna exclaimed, bouncing in her seat and clapping her hands together. "So _**you**_ are the people who know how to catch and milk Razorfin Plimpie's! Oh, this is wonderful!"

All colour drained from Lord Bulstrode's face.

 **A/N**

 **One: Please. Laugh a bit if you got this reference.**

 **The Neville-Luna plot bunny (I STILL think of them as Skipping Rats. Flibrrrt!) came out of no where in the middle of writing the chapter. And of course being my usual undisciplined self, I just had to incorporate it.**

 **The Razorfin Plimpies, and their use, is possibly the only original thought in this whole story.**

 **Back to the WiFi desert for the next three weeks. Next update may be delayed.**


	26. Chapter 26, Razorfin Plimpies, oh my

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 26

If for some silly reason, you think my writing skills

are making me money, you are sadly mistaken.

All recognizable characters and places are the intellectual

property of JK Rowling and all those other large corps.

 **For all those who caught the ginormous SoG foul-up in the original posting of Chapter 25, Thank You. I did a hasty patch and cover-up that is awkward but works.**

 **It took a while to see I had fouled up as my dumb phone has problems signing in to read reviews.**

 **The chapter was reposted when I was in a WiFi area for a day. The repost was made in haste with virtually no editing. Was within 2% of running out of power.**

Can there be a rabbit hole be under the sea?

" _Our large secret is that my family has been the Britannia supplier of potion base infusion for eight hundred years. We . . "_

" _Oh," Luna exclaimed, bouncing in her seat and clapping her hands together. "So_ _ **you**_ _are the people who know how to catch and milk the Razorfin Plimpie's! Oh, this is wonderful!"_

 _All colour drained from Lord Bulstrode's face._

Harry desperately wanted to face palm. He just had a Hermione gaff when she interjected herself into the Lord Bulstrode narrative and now Luna had blown up another protocol cauldron.

Instead, he watched Lord Bulstrode as the realization hit him that his long kept, death before dishonour secret was something known to a waif-like seventeen year old girl. He was not alone in staring in shock at the wide-eyed innocent looking blonde.

Luna, noticing everyone was staring at her piped up again. "I'm sorry, but Razorfin Plimpies are considered a myth or legend by many magizoologists. Therefor, they are ignored, especially because no one knows why they would be useful. But during our travels around the world, father and I heard occasional whispers about some fish that resembled the fabled Razorfin Plimpie," here she looked directly at Lord Bustrode, "and very large hints of what they might be used for."

Lord Bulstrode looked _Bombarda_ shocked. His son and Millicent both looked stricken. The whole family was looking as though they could not get their breath.

Everyone waited politely while the Bulstrodes regained part of their composure.

That silence lasted until Luna, whom Harry desperately hoped was trying to be helpful, piped up again with, "Did you know the Shamans of the Mongolian Warlords claim their Razorfin Plimpie fluid supply is caught in some extremely treacherous waters off some eastern islands north of Nippon? They wrested control away from the Nippon Empire after the Second Great War."

"But they also claim the harvests are poor because the Empire caught every Razorfin they could when they realized that when Japan would lose their War, the Empire would lose control of the fishing area."

Luna paused in her story for a moment. "There are stories of the Asian potion brewers having trouble keeping their product quality high. I would have thought your family should be better off financially if you are the major supplier of, well you know what, to the world," she finished off her story on a quizzical note.

The Bulstrode family members were all looking decidedly pole axed from information overload Harry figured. While the Bulstrodes were not paying attention, he tried to catch everyone's eye and have them keep silent.

It took almost five minutes for the Bulstrodes to mentally return to the Potter Manor sitting room.

"Lord Potter-Black, we must return home. This new information . . ."

Placing his cup and saucer down, Harry stood and spoke. "Lord Bulstrode, perhaps a walk through the Manor gardens would help. I understand the need to pace off the nervous energy that shocking revelations can create. I must remind you that according to you, your decision making time is short." He idly waved a hand around the room at the attendees. "You cannot keep disappearing from home and we cannot keep leaving the school without people, probably those with ill intention for one or both of us, starting questioning what we are doing."

Harry kept his eyes on Picinicus. He was working hard on a neutral look. At once commanding, without looking arrogant.

The visiting Lord slumped a little. "Your offer has merit, Lord Potter-Black. Perhaps the fresh air will help."

With a gesture, his children rose and accompanied him to the French styled doors that led to the garden. Harry also gestured, but his stopped anyone from following.

Once outside, warming charms were applied as Harry led the Bulstrodes a short distance into the garden.

Harry slipped out his wand and began silently casting with it. "Milord, I have erected a privacy bubble from that statue to that bench and about thirty feet wide along this path. You may discuss anything you want within this space and none except you will hear it."

With a sharp head nod, Harry turned and walked back to the manor. Lord Bulstrode started pacing along the garden path with his children striding hard to keep up with him.

As Harry re-entered the sitting room. He first noticed that even though Luna was now dressed in Luna clothes, she was still quietly bouncing on her chair next to Neville. Hermione was sneaking looks at her with her occasionally seen `Luna is not supposed to be logical' look. Everyone else was looking at him.

Harry sighed. "It is simple. He needs to think again and every sea captain in every book I've read paces on his bridge or his deck when he needs to think."

"Sea captain?" said Ron. "How do you know he is a captain?"

"There are several clues, Ron. When he walks, he has a slight splay-footed roll from balancing on a fishing boat at sea. His arms and shoulders are heavily muscled and his hands are rough and callused from years of hauling in nets and ropes. And last was the pain in his eyes when he spoke of the fishing boat and crew that would never return to port. Outside that door is a man who is terrified his people and a way of life he loves are about to be destroyed."

That little speech had brought everyone's eyes back to Harry, most of their faces showing shock at his words.

Meanwhile out in the garden.

Picinicus and his son had been arguing around in circles for five minutes now. Each becoming more paranoid and bullheaded about their predicament with each sentence.

"Father, may I speak?" forcefully interjected Millicent.

After a nod from his head she continued. "I do not claim to know the Potter-Black's after only three months. But, Lord Potter-Black has vouched for his people to treat our secret as one of his own. And I do know that none of them would ever betray that trust."

On she went. "Lord Potter-Black, Lord Longbottom and OoMD Ron Weasley are probably the three most powerful wands in the school. Granger and Lovegood are two who survived dueling against Bellatrix Lestrange during the Battle." That statement brought looks of amazement and disbelief. "And Greengrass will be trained by the Black Sisters to join them in all things politically influential."

She stopped and took a deep no-looking-back-now breath.

"You could not ask for a more powerful group of people for allies in our world."

The two males looked between each other and Millicent.

Millicent stood tall. "Father, I know letting our secret out is hard. But we really have no choice. Also it sounds as if Lovegood knows what the Razorfins are used for, but not how to use them."

The two men spent a few moments pondering Millicent's words.

"I agree with Millicent, father," said Grenadier. "The storm coming is too powerful for our small, insular world."

Picinicus took a moment to look at him and then embraced his daughter.

"When did you get so wise, Mils?" he asked.

"When you are in a fight to the death and Dark Curses are missing you by inches father, you start praying to any of the gods who will listen that someone will save you from the madness. Harry Potter and his friends did."

With a last embrace, Picinicus turned and said, "Let us go find if the Potter-Blacks will be our allies."

"Lastly father. Now that you have met him, try to drop the Lord-this and Lord-that. Harry Potter has not got an ounce of PureBlood ponce in his body."

They walked back into the manor's sitting room and entered through the doors. Mostly everybody was seated and looking as calm as any other group might look during tea. The exceptions were the bushy haired Granger girl and the Lovegood heiress. Seeing the strained, narrow eyed expressions on their faces, Millicent was willing to bet galleons that Granger had tried to get Lovegood to talk about the `secret' and Lovegood had refused.

Harry stood as the Bulstrodes re-entered the room.

"Lord Potter-Black, I thank you for your courtesies, and wish to continue with our discussion." Lord Bulstrode extended his hand. "My name is Picinicus. My friends call me Pik. My hope is that is how you will address me from now on."

Harry looked at the hand for a moment before reaching out and giving it a greeting shake. "I like to make new friends. My friends call me Harry."

As everyone resumed their seats, Picinicus leaned forward and started. "It is claimed that any story must start at the beginning. In our family's records, that is when a wizard named Burdock Bulstrode was given title to the lands around the Bay of Kitesley in the year 989 for services rendered to a minor, childless Laird. The land has been decent for farming in the uplands and sheep raising on the rougher hill slopes. Fishing was good amongst the reefs and skerries inshore of the larger out islands. Except for the usual sheep and women stealing raids among the clans, life was fairly peaceful and predictable in the coastal hamlet of Groghabste. Slowly, Burdock, his son and grandson managed to build a stone keep with a mot and bailey for protection. And protection was needed for as you know, a small group of wizards may be formidable fighters, but enough arrows and men armed with pointy spears can kill you as fast as a cutting curse."

Bulstrode paused to reach for himself a drink of tea. He decided instead upon the small glass of dark amber brandy that had appeared on his table.

He continued, "My great-greats diaries and journals tell that it took almost a hundred years to discover a mystery in the area."

He leaned forward seeming to hope that his intensity could make understanding easier. "No seaman really wants to go fishing in the storm sick waters of the west Scotland coast in the depth of winter. Yet, sometimes when the harvests were poor and hunger and famine stalked our small village, men had to try the storm raging fury of the Great Northern Ocean. A quiet spot in the violence had been found in the lee of a good sized island about forty miles away with no nearby overfalls or underwater reefs or skerries so a small boat might survive a storm with a chance of making a decent catch."

Again another drink of brandy. "As I said, it took almost a hundred years before my ancestors, who remember, did _not_ want to be fishing at that time of year, realized that the rare occasions when their nets were shredded to string, it was not some unknown sharp rocks tearing the nets. One of the captains realized the net destruction only occurred when fishing under a full moon, and more particularly, the second full moon after the winter solstice."

"Think about it. Dead of winter fishing in boats easily crushed by the frequent winter storms of western Scotland. Fishing at night which is done only by desperate men who want to fill their hold and go home before the sea kills them. And lastly, fishing by the light of the second full moon of the winter solstice. In hindsight, it is not surprising it took so long to realize it was not odd rocks or the place had a curse that was tearing their nets."

"So, what my ancestors had was a mystery. But not an urgent mystery. From then on they just avoided fishing during the second full moon after the Winter Solstice."

Lord Bulstrode leaned back and took another sip of brandy. He looked up. "This is excellent brandy, Harry."

Harry nodded back.

He leaned forward again. "Shortly thereafter, enough gold had been saved to send a likely young lad to learn his magic at the Hogwarts school of Magic. Only rarely did this happen as gold was considered too valuable to waste on `learning magic'. This lad, Arnager Bulstrode, who was the Heir Secondary, returned after seven years and of course became the prime teacher for the rest of the family."

"It were (1) about a dozen years later that by chance a fishing boat that was desperately hoping to ride out a storm the day of the full moon behind the island dropped its anchor to keep itself off the rocks. Shortly, a broken-backed fish floated up and was washed onboard by a wave that almost swamped the boat. As the fish thrashed about, it was cutting everything it touched as though by the sharpest knife. The men particularly noticed this was happening when the lashings holding the fish hold hatch cover were cut and another boarding wave almost sank the boat. One brave man who grabbed the fish to throw it overboard suffered the removal of all the fingers of that hand."

By now his rapt audience was following every word.

"By desperate feats of seamanship, the boat was saved, and the injured, yet dangerous, fish was captured in a stew pot. When the boat managed to stagger back to Grobhaste, young Arnager, considered the most learned man in the village, was summoned to figure out what sort of creature had almost sank an invaluable fishing boat."

"That young man drew a sketch of the fish. It was almost two feet long and while most of the fish looked like a Norwegian cod, the lateral fins stuck out from the sides like bird wings. And those fins were part of the Plimpie's secret. They were as sharp as a cutting curse. They had even deeply scored the inside of the iron stew pot used to capture it. The other discovery he made was that the large pink dome on the top of their heads radiated strong magic. And when he touched it, it squirted some pink fluid out of a hole in the front that he promptly saved in some glass vials."

"Our young man had just detected these things when the fish died and suddenly the fins became like a normal fish fins and the pink dome stopped radiating magic."

Bulstrode stopped to take a swig of brandy as talking like this was thirsty work. He was also wanting the alcohol to dull the gibbering in his head that he was exposing secrets that should have been passed on to heirs and unspoken to anyone else. Only Harry seemed to notice that the brandy level of the glass sank very little before refilling.

Tilitsy seemed to be trying to help Harry and family get the story.

After another sip, Picinicus resumed his tale. "And now Arnager set his mind firmly on the path of discovering just what was this fish that had been brought to him. Anything that could bring gold to his family and their poor village should be pursued. For three years he tried to capture a Razorfin Plimpie, as he called them, alive. After all, when the one he was studying died, the magic disappeared."

"Except for the small samples of the fluid. For some reason they still radiated magic."

"According to his private journals, he first tried analyzing the sample with every bit of magic he knew. And he learned very little except the fluid was very powerful. Powerful enough to keep him from experimenting with it wildly. Then after three years, he noticed the magic power was diminishing. Now becoming desperate, he took his sample and in summer journeyed once again to Hogwarts."

Picinicus stopped and once again Harry's brandy supply took a beating.

"There, he found the Potions teacher of the time, a great-great grand-son of Helga Hufflepuff, who was intrigued by Arnager's tale and became willing to help him. It took the two of them most of a year to understand the secrets of that pink fluid. Returning the following summer, he told the current Laird what he needed to have done to bring wealth to the Bulstrode Family."

"From then on at great risk, and with some loss of life, boats sailed before the second full moon after the winter solstice with orders to somehow capture a Razorfin Plimpie. It took a dozen years, and a lot of gold, before a net, and its lines made of steel chainmail finally captured three of the Plimpies. Using a chainmail glove to hold the Plimpies, the pink fluid was milked into a large vial. As per agreement with Hufflepuff's great-great grand-son, one part in three was sent to Hogwarts for his use. Another part in three was kept for Arnegar's use. The last part was very carefully, very secretively sent to potioneers of repute in the local kingdoms and some even as far away as Aquataine."

"Right or wrong, the Lairds of the next several decades slowly grew the distribution of the `potion base fluid' across the land and into what is now Europe. We now had use of all the fluid collected, due to the death of the Hogwarts potion teacher. They used many middlemen and cut-outs to keep the source of the fluid from becoming public knowledge. The danger of our new wealth was shown in that several attacks were made on our small castle due to the belief that if we could afford to pay for castle building, there must be gold in our dungeons."

"And so, we became even more secretive, more suspicious of outsiders. We tried to send as many lads to Hogwarts as we could afford so they would learn strong magic. This would stand us in good stead when the Scottish kings wanted gold for their wars. Or later when the English would invade and want to plunder everything in sight. A shabby looking castle with a tumble-down village with good _Confundus_ and _Notice-Me-Not_ Charms would usually keep the greedy away and pig ignorant social climbers from being interested in staying. For tax collectors and wardens appointed to milk gold from us, well, my ancestors had other methods."

Lord Bulstrode leaned back in his chair and scrubbed his face with his hand. "As our ability to catch and `milk' the Plimpies grew, so grew the use of the fluid, so more gold came into our hands."

He paused again and visibly gathered his fortitude. He turned to Andromeda and Narcissa Black who were sitting in the pair of chairs out of the circle to his right, and spoke to them. "Mesdames Black, the pair of you took potions at Hogwarts before that absolute disgrace of a wizard, Snape, became the potions professor. And if I recollect properly, you Madam Black," he said indicating Andromeda. " Achieved ninety-eight percent Outstanding on your NEWT tests, and almost achieved a Potions Mastery. Would you tell these young people the advantage of using `potion base' instead of water when brewing?"

After a glance at her sister, Andromeda started in a teaching-lecturing mode. "By using potion base instead of distilled water, a brewer can lessen the ingredients to a ratio of two versus three parts. Also, the ingredients used may be of lesser quality yet will achieve the desired results. In fact, using the finest ingredients with potion base at standard amounts will result in a potion of such potency that it probably will harm a patient."

Bulstrode nodded. "Thank You," he said. He turned back to Harry. "Did that greasy disgrace to the art of brewing ever explain those concepts to you?"

The general shaking of heads, with a "No, Pik. The greasy bastard never did," from Harry, told the story.

"My lovely daughter Millicent tells me he never mentioned it during the extra lessons he gave to Slytherin House either," Picinicus replied. "Or even mentioned distilled water could be used as a potion base.

Harry looked around at his friends and family. The older Black sisters were stone faced. Luna was looking intrigued and Neville looked at her in stunned revelation. Ron just looked really confused. Daphne was stone faced but the tension in her muscles along the chair arms had her forearms corded. Hermione was about to explode.

" _She must be literally biting her tongue not to have interrupted by now," he thought. "She is learning."_

Bulstrode started talking again. "Hogwarts uses only potion base for brewing in its potion classes. It does not use water in class, so Snape never bothered himself to teach the difference. However, since the Bulstrode Family is the only supplier of the additive that turns water into potion base, no one notices that it has to be imported everywhere else. After all it takes remarkably little `pink fluid' to create a barrel of potion base. However, consider how many potions are brewed in Britannia and the continent in a day. Thousands upon thousands I would venture."

Bulstrode took another sip of brandy and sat back in his chair while looking around at his audience.

"And someone with great evil in his heart has decided he wants to control over half the supply of the magical world. And he is willing to kill for it."

 **A/N:**

 **One: Deliberate 'were'. Not 'was'.**

 **Yep, it's a short chapter, but this is the logical break point.**

 **Now we get to find out if I can write adventure and conspiracy.**

 **(Hopefully without further writer stupidity killing off our hero by accident.**

 **Let the fact that I let a random, ill thought out plot bunny almost ruin the story be heeded.**

 **AndrewWolfe was right. A little discipline can help a writer be better.)**

 **UPDATE WARNING: This chapter is late due to Real Life biting me in the butt. And since I will be occupied by the World Board Gaming Championships the last two weeks of July, Chapter 27 will not be posted until about August 15, 2019.**


	27. Chapter 27

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 27

Pick a disclaimer. I'm tired of thinking up witty new ones.

JK Rowling, and others own all rights to the characters

and I make zilch money off this literary effort.

No clever chapter title either

The last weekend in November was to start tomorrow.

Time seemed to be racing by for Harry. It had been a week since the revelations by Lord Bulstrode. And Harry had spent the week constantly having his concentration on his schoolwork broken as thoughts about the Bulstrode Problem would intrude on his consciousness randomly. Or Hermione would want to discuss it in the privacy of their shared common room, or Millicent would be constantly casting glances at him in the Eights common room.

It was a Friday night but to the NEWT students, Friday was just another night used for studying especially by those who were going ball gown shopping tomorrow. Several female groups were going out tomorrow in search of the perfect fabric and style that would guarantee drool to run down the chin of their fortunate male escort. And many of the young men who had asked young women to the Yule Ball were being firmly informed that _they_ were expected to be available Sunday so as to colour coordinate with their dates when the young men went robe shopping Sunday or after.

Savvy PureBloods and the Eights who had been fourth years during the Tri-Wizard Yule Ball told tales about the fury of girls who felt scorned by their dates for failing to properly colour coordinate with their gowns. With less than three weeks until the Ball on December seventeenth, pressure was ratcheting up upon the attendees.

In fact, next Friday evening there was a near mandatory gathering for mundane-raised and mundane-born on the proper etiquette expected a wizarding Yule Ball. Harry was starting to believe the Headmistress was channeling Narcissa. The meeting was another of McGonagall's methods of integration for those who had been ignored by the world they had entered years ago. Hermione was pushing the Headmistress' integration plans hard because as she put it, "We can't subjugate them. We will have to infiltrate the bastards."

Harry was starting to notice talking about PureBloods was affecting Hermione's use of crude language.

In her mind, Hermione was pre-emptively launching her crusade to make sure the PureBloods who despised everyone but themselves, would not remain the driving force in wizarding politics and culture.

Infiltration might work on the existing underclass' of the wizarding world, but Harry was betting that the other prong of the attack was also needed. Harry, with Hermione's help, was wading through reams of parchment as the NEWT and Beyond NEWT students put forth their plans on what charms and transfigurations they planned for the Hogwarts Underground Pub. When Hermione struggled, he took the proposals and plans to Vector, Babbling or even McGonagall to get their feasibility advice. Hermione had already caught a mistake that would have led to the knut operated arcade-style games could have been fooled into accepting no value fake coins.

That brought up another problem Harry thought he was seeing. Hermione was starting to spend too much time in the library looking for any information on the Bulstrode problem. Just like a month ago, he could see the changes to her health as her need for sleep was being consumed by her addiction to research while somehow keeping up with her classes. Both learning and teaching.

He would have been surprised to find he was not entirely correct.

Harry was also having his own problems. One of the reasons he noticed how quickly Hermione was physically showing her lack of sleep was because he was seeing the same look in his mirror in the morning. His nights without Hermione cuddled next to him had rapidly become filled with re-visits of Voldemort now with an extra faceless follower who laughed while tossing killing curses like they were confetti.

Which once again led his thoughts back to the Bulstrode Problem. Harry and the Bulstrodes' were quickly running out of time. The supposed protection that had been bought by the missing or dead boat crew would be ending December twenty-eighth if the madman adhered to his schedule.

Harry was hoping that when he had his scheduled Monday meeting with his assigned Mind Healer he could pass off his physical and mental exhaustion as NEWT stress.

Which led his thoughts along a well-worn path to Daphne Greengrass. With Hermione having abandoned him for the library, he had found her often joining him and Ron at their table, sometimes with Tracy and Millicent, sitting with him as they all studied. What Harry missed was that Daphne was also spending time in the library with Hermione working the Bulstrode problem.

Tired and feeling lonely, he had not turned Daphne away when she invited herself into his bed two nights ago. This time she had worn a heavy green plaid flannel pajama shirt over shorts as a concession to the end of November temperatures in the castle. She had been taking her bed attire seriously since the dressed for seduction scene had almost blown up in her face weeks ago.

She had given him advice on how to approach Lord Longbottom so as to keep the rift in their relationship from widening. Harry had approached Neville the yesterday and although the two of them made their peace with each other, Harry still felt he had further to go to truly make up for his ordered Luna's inadvertent snatching out of his Battle Brother's bed.

And Ginny was often giving him the evil eye around the castle. When he mentioned that, Greengrass had given him an incredulous look. "Are you truly that oblivious?" she said. "Both the Weaselet . . er, Weasley and Lovegood are Neville's girlfriends."

She then decided the look on Potters face was worthy of a pensive memory. Nobody should be capable of looking that gobsmacked!

The talk had then shifted to the Bulstrode problem, but half an hour or circular discussion resolved nothing. Then she had berated him for not paying attention to Granger. It was time she said for him to start acting a little romantic towards his date to the Ball.

Harry blinked rapidly. "Uh, but she's so busy I can't even keep track of her."

Harry was lying on his back as Daphne reared above him from her snuggled to his side position and her suddenly dark blue eyes were blazing with her vexation with him.

"Potter, you are starting to exasperate me. Your girlfriend has been conditioned by seven years of having to save Harry Potter. Every time YOU have a problem, she is of the sincere belief that she is the only person in the world who can solve YOUR problem of the moment. So, once again she is shorting herself on sleep in trying to hand you a `no brainer, here's what we do' answer to your problem."

Harry had unfortunately missed most of the rant because as soon as Daphne had said Hermione was his girlfriend, his thought processes had shorted out.

"Bu . . bu . . sh . . she's not my girlfriend!" he blurted a reply to the only part of the rant that had registered with him.

Harry saw Greengrass close her eyes and he followed her lips as she silently counted back from ten.

"Wrong. You two have been practically joined at the hip since first year. Outside of the fight you had third year, have you two ever spent a day apart from each other?"

Harry's brain was locking up from not wanting to follow those pathways of desperate hope he constantly worked at denying because he was not worthy of "Her" affection beyond the love of a brother. Inside his stunted affection levels, he knew his worst fears were breaking through to gnaw at him. Hermione had received two more Intention gifts over the last month. She gracefully returned them, but once again Harry was gut-wrenchingly reminded that others were seeing his best friend as someone to be desired.

And the terror that she would find someone she desired back, someone who would fill her time, her thoughts and her love to the exclusion of all others had been tearing him apart for weeks. She would always be _his_ best friend. After she married, would he still be hers?

A fingertip suddenly poked him between his eyes.

"You did not answer my question," Daphne said crossly.

"Question?"

Poke.

"Absent visits during school holidays, have you ever spent more than one day apart from your girlfriend for seven years?"

"Ouch, Greengrass. That hurt."

"Good. Means I got your attention. Answer the question."

Harry remained silent as seven years of Hermione memories flashed through his mind. Hermione terrified as the troll was about to kill her in the bathroom. The feeling as his heart felt ripped from his chest as he sat for hours beside her petrified body second year. Then his feeling of utter failure as he hopelessly wrapped himself around her in what he knew was to be a futile attempt to save her from Lupin the werewolf in the forest third year.

Next, he flashed to her being Krum's `what he would miss most', under the water, her wild hair floating around her as she slept, tied to that post, and him being terrified he could not save her.

Then Harry fell into the abyss as he remembered how he felt as she crumpled under the lash of Dolohov's spell at the Ministry. The memory of how he had been crushed by despair when he thought she had died clawed at him. Malfoy Mansion and Bellatrix . . .

This was worse than a nightmare. This remembrance was not a nightmare, it was driven by his memories. His memories of how being his best friend had nearly gotten her killed half a dozen times because she had stayed by his side when anyone else would have said "I have had it. We are done."

He realized at that moment he would rather hear that last phrase rather than "Oh, Harry. I'm sorry, but I don't love you that way. But we can still be friends."

Daphne watched as Harry's eyes lost focus as he lost himself in some memory. Then his eyes closed and shudders wracked his body and some small tears leaked from underneath his closed eyelids.

" _Oh, dragon shite. I think I pushed too hard,"_ she thought.

Harry lay there, leaking, wallowing in his memories and angst.

"Alright," the irritated blonde huffed. "Since attempting to answer _that_ question about Granger is beyond you, how about you answer me what has happened to you two the last three months? Through the summer you and Granger were buddy buddy, chummy chummy. You talked, laughed and joked around. I thought there was hope for you then, especially when she started sleeping with you."

"Now you both act like the other is a stranger. It seems you have both regressed to sixth year. You did not ask Granger to the Yule Ball back in fourth year, but everyone in the school tells stories of how you stared at her and paid more attention to her instead of your date."

Harry hoped he kept his wince at the memory strictly to his brain.

Daphne continued on. "Now you have asked her to the Ball, and she will again look magnificent. What are you going to do? Now. In the present. Are you going to treat her as a girlfriend? Or are you going to break her heart a little more because you, after seven long years cannot get your head out of your arse and admit what she means to you?"

Harry's brain had re-engaged early in Daphne's rant.

" _What had happened?"_ he wondered.

He turned his thoughts back to how he and Hermione had acted with each other. They had been two young adults stretching themselves to act as adults.

" _During the summer they had acted as adults who had_ _responsibilities. They had worked, they had led people. They had made adult decisions that they took responsibility for. And at the same time there had been easy laughter and discussions long into the night over topics both silly and serious._

It just now occurred to Harry that most of those discussions had included Hermione. And most of those with her he had not wanted to end until either fatigue or responsibility drove him to getting some rest.

Harry barely registered as Daphne lowered herself back down and cuddled into his side.

It took several hours for Harry to turn his brain off despite being in bed with the warm and cuddly Daphne Greengrass.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

It was Saturday morning and Hermione was off Ball gown shopping in Diagon Alley with a flock of Mundaneborn and Halfbloods. When Harry had expressed mild surprise at her and the group going the traditional route and wearing formal witch robes for the Ball, her answer he thought had been instructive.

"We have to join them before we can beat them. Remember, the plan is now for an infiltration of the Ministry starting next year. Besides, the Spring Ball will be Mundane clothing."

Harry used the time to floo to Grimmauld Place to talk with his Aunts. The questions Greengrass had asked had kept bothering him for days. He hoped that the Black Sisters would have some answers. With the confusion running through his mind, even Teddy should be able to give him better advice then he was trying to give himself.

And he figured to give them a brief on whom he planned giving the `Lordship' of House Moragaine during the Wizengamot's Winter Solstice meeting. They could then put out quiet, informal feelers to her family as to their support. Frankly, as long as her family did not vehemently and publicly oppose her elevation, Harry did not particularly care about her family. Just talking with her in the Eight's common room had given him information about her `family leadership' education. He just wanted the Narcissa and Andromeda to double check his work.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The week had flown by. Suddenly it was late afternoon of December third. After teaching his fifth-year class, Harry was in the Eights common room staring at his planner that Hermione had gifted to him.

Seeing all the schoolwork, teaching hours, Underground Pub planning time and now the Bulstrode Problem that needed attention had him once again he felt that he was trying to run on an ice pond and all his flailing was only keeping him from landing painfully on his arse.

After dinner, he and Hermione were having a short meeting in their common room with Tracey Davis before going to the mandatory Yule Ball meeting. After being sworn to secrecy last week, both Greengrass and Bulstrode had been quizzed on their friends' fitness for the Moragaine Lordship.

Tomorrow, he had to go to Diagon Alley's Twilfit and Tattings to purchase his dress robes for the ball. Hermione had specified black with dark red and silver trim and highlights. Apparently, Hermione had seen something in Diagon Alley last week that had gotten her attention.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

As arranged, after dinner, Harry and Hermione sat in the comfortable chairs in their Head of House common room. Seated on the couch across the low table from them was nervous Tracey Davis.

Tracey figured she had a right to be nervous. Hermione had handed her a formal scroll yesterday requesting her presence for a meeting with Lord Potter-Black. And Granger had seemed a bit smug during the delivery.

Hermione and Harry engaged Tracey with several minutes of polite small talk. Tracey was working hard at covering her jangling nerves.

Harry finally stopped the polite socializing, and started reading from a sheet of parchment.

"Miss Davis, according to our information, you are the third child of a surprisingly large family. You have an older brother and sister and a younger brother. Your father is in the wizarding diplomatic service and your mother retired from the ministry to be a full-time mother for your family. Correct?"

Tracey did not want trust her voice at the moment and wordlessly nodded affirmative when Harry paused.

"According to my Aunts, you should be considered reasonably well educated in the requirements and tasking needed to be the Lady of an Ancient House. Would you agree with that assertion?"

Tracey was thunderstruck. Why would he need to know about her training that had been ingrained into her until it was second nature?

Suddenly her widening eyes whipped over to Granger. _"Oh Merlin, Morgana and Maeve. Please don't let this be that Granger has talked Potter into making a Consort offer for me!"_

Struggling to look composed with her brain skittering around trying to make sense of Potter's question, her mouth running on automatic point-me replied. "Yes, father and mother have given me extensive training in the duties expected of a Lady of the House. They included financial, social and political lessons as they were trying to make me an attractive match for a young Lord. For years they have looked upon me as a possible way to raise the status of House Davis."

" _Merlin! Did I just say that? Have I gone insane? I'm supposed to be a Slytherin. We gather information, we don't blab it around for nothing!"_

There was a hint of humor in Harry's voice as he spoke.

"I am not so sure your father will regard what I want from you to be a raise in House Davis status."

" _NO! What? Wait a moment? What is going on? He sounds like a marriage or consort offer, yet he has not talked to Father?_

Tracey knew her control had failed her and her face had become ashen.

"However," Harry continued. "Whether he gives his permission or not, I intend to offer you a position that will make use of your talents. Even though you are of age, I believe you should consult with him about this offer."

" _What is going on?" she thought as relief flooded through her_

It took three tries before she trusted her voice to speak.

"I thank you for your interest Lord Potter-Black."

"Good," replied Harry. "As you will not be at the Mundane born or raised meeting later, I strongly suggest you spend time hunting up all the information you can about House Moragaine. I intend to make you Lord Moragaine at the Winter Solstice Wizengamot meeting."

Harry had a hard time suppressing his urge to laugh at the gobsmacked, jaw dropped expression on the usually irrepressible young woman. A partly smothered snort from Hermione's direction showed she was probably having the same difficulty.

It took several moments, but Harry throttled his mirth.

"Very well Lord Moragaine Designate. I would suggest that Sunday evening would be a time for you to give us a short brief upon what you learn and your fathers' reaction. I do realize that this is a short time frame but think of it as good pre-lordship training," said Harry.

As Tracey recognized her dismissal, she rose from the sofa and Harry escorted her to the door.

As the door closed, he turned back to Hermione who finally lost her war with her laughter.

"Oh, Merlin," she gasped after a few moments. "Am I evil because I've been wanting to crack that peppy, bouncy Luna-on-steroids façade of hers for months?"

After a moment of thought, Harry replied. "I doubt it's a façade though. I figure she had to suppress and bury that side of her very deep while she was in Slytherin House, but once it broke out, it has been uncontrollable."

"Well, no matter what else, it was a _little_ evil putting her on a short time constraint. Especially after dropping her in the pot with no warning," Hermione said with a grin.

"Perhaps," came the smug reply.

"You know she is going to hate us by Sunday"

It was Harrys' turn to grin. "But only for a little while."

It may have been for only a brief time, but Harry enjoyed "his" Hermione being back.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The meeting of the Mundane-born or raised for their etiquette lesson was as boring as Harry and Hermione had feared. They had tried to beg off the affair citing their lessons with Narcissa Black, but the Headmistress had insisted they participate especially as they were also considered Staff.

During the break, after an hour of watching McGonagall try to cram the proper forms of address, greetings and finger food etiquette into resisting skulls filled with rebellious mush, the pair were standing in a corner snacking and quietly grumbling to each other when they were approached by a smirking Professor Sinestra.

"You two are not going to be the `wizarding traditions are fun' Ministry's poster children with the faces you two are wearing."

"Professor," Harry quietly replied. "We have been schooled in this by Narcissa Black. Compared to her methods of instruction, the Headmistress is a literal pussycat."

Sinestra goggled at Harry as his last words registered. She settled back with a smirk.

"For that horrible simile Lord Potter-Black I am going to inform the Headmistress you two volunteered for the dancing demonstration."

And with those words she turned and strode over to McGonagall and quietly spoke in her ear. The look of pure evil satisfaction that spread across the Headmistress' face had Harry groaning to himself.

Even Hermione smirked at him. "Way to step right in the fresh dragon dung pile Professor Potter. Tell me, is it one of your learned skills or are you just a natural at it?"

Harry's return glare lacked any heat.

Headmistress McGonagall spent five minutes setting up the large horned gramophone for the dance music.

With a large pleasant smile that she refused to let sink into a smirk McGonagall looked straight at Harry and Hermione.

"Professor Potter-Black and Professor Granger. Please step on the dance floor."

With a gesture that encompassed the crowd of onlookers she continued. "As a little birdie has informed me that the two of you have actually had dancing lessons, I find it desirous that you demonstrate proper dance etiquette to our class."

After a mild glare at the Headmistress that told her he knew which 'little birdie" had ratted them out, Harry turned to an already perfectly positioned Hermione in a form hugging set of dark green semi-formal robes.

After a sweeping bow, answered by her graceful curtsey, he placed his left hand on her right hand at shoulder height. His right hand was placed slowly and carefully upon her left waist. She placed her left hand upon the shoulder of his satin black semi-formal robes.

McGonagall started the music (a traditional waltz) and the couple glided into the slightly swirling three-step of the music beat.

It was a good thing that the dance steps had become instinctive from Narcissa's long brutal practices.

As soon as Harry had taken Hermione in his arms he had looked into her eyes and lost all higher brain function. Staring into her warm, chocolate coloured eyes he lost himself to the magic of a man with a beautiful woman in his arms doing a courtship ritual that was hundreds of years old.

Several minutes later, he was rudely yanked out of his daze by the music ending. Collecting himself, he raised his left arm in a courtly manner for Hermione to place her hand on as he escorted her off the dance floor.

What he did not notice was the other young men looking enviously at him and many young girls looking covetously at him.

He graciously pulled a chair out from a nearby table for Hermione who conducted herself with grace and composure as she sank into it.

"THAT is how well-mannered wizards and witches conduct themselves at a Ball," stated a faintly smiling Headmistress as she addressed the gathering of students. "Perhaps it would be a good idea to ask Professors Black and Tonks to concentrate on deportment lessons for the next two weeks."

"Professors," she continued looking at Harry and Hermione. "I would recommend enjoying your chairs as I will shortly ask you to demonstrate a four-beat fox trotter dance."

After a pair of waltzes', and a round of Imperturbable Charms placed on many students' shoes to keep the pain of stepped upon feet at a minimum, Harry and Hermione demonstrated a four-beat fox trotter dance and later, a what-was-sure-to-be-scandalous Viennese waltz. Such twirling and leaping with both hands placed on a girls' waist so as to elevate her would cause swooning and heart failure at a proper PureBlood gathering.

"Who would have thought Minerva McGonagall could harbor such salacious plans for a Wizards Ball?", commented Harry as they sat observing the efforts of the Ball hopefuls to copy the boisterousness of a Vienna waltz.

"Without the other schools here to spread the story of the Hogwarts school student's scandalous conduct a bit of exuberant dancing will go un-noticed."

As the dance practice broke up, Harry found himself reluctant to let the evening end. He was forced into participating, but he had totally enjoyed himself. He found he was looking at the practice as an almost date with Hermione.

Walking from the fourth-floor practice room towards the Eighth-Year House with Hermione gently holding his arm in wizard culture approved end of evening fashion, Harry found he did not want the evening to end.

Part of his brain skittered away from completely agreeing with that thought. That part kept insisting that he would have enjoyed Susan or Padma or Greengrass as his partner tonight.

" _Still," his brain answered. "Would we have been as relaxed? Could I have swooped and hoisted Padma as confidently as I did Hermione during the Viennese waltz?"_

The half dozen Eights whom had been at the practice session entered the common room as Harry and Hermione continued on to their suite's door.

Casting around for something to say, Harry suddenly blurted out, "D . d . do you want to get a snack? I mean I'm kind of hungry and could use a bit of food."

By the time he finished, Harry had flushed bright red and was staring at his shoes. He did not see the startled expression on Hermione's face as she processed not so much what he said as how he had said it.

She crooked her forefinger sideways under his chin forcing his head up so as to look him in the eye. Adopting her poshest Narcissa Black tone she answered.

"My Lord Potter-Black. I am honored that you would request my presence at a continuation of this evenings fete. Shall we?"

She extended her arm in the approved fashion. After a startled moment Harry cocked his left arm out and started the walk down to the kitchen door.

Harry was now frantically scouring his mind for something to say. As each topic swirled to the forefront of his mind, he instantly thought he did not want to talk about that. Or she would not want to talk about that.

He did not even notice that Hermione kept shooting puzzled looks at him from the corners of her eyes while his silence had carried them down to the kitchen door.

Still distracted, Harry ticked the pear in the bowl of fruit decoration, the door swung open and they entered into a quiet kitchen with only about a dozen elves scattered around the large expanse.

Immediately an older looking elf appeared in front of them.

"I am Johanis. May I help you, Professor Potter and Professor Granger? he inquired.

"Yes, Thank you. Professor granger and I would like a late snack. I want a ham and stilton cheese sandwich with sliced tomato on rye bread, and . .?

Harry cocked an eyebrow at Hermione.

"Small bowl of porridge with cream and sugar, and a half a cup of fruit."

Johanis raised his hand and snapped his fingers. With a 'follow me' gesture he walked over to a small white table cloth cover table in an out of the way corner. With his posture showing he was obviously waiting, Harry caught on and quickly pulled Hermione's chair out, handed her into it and placed her back up to the table before seating himself.

As the pair had learned to expect after seven years at Hogwarts, the moment they were seated, a plated sandwich, a bowl of porridge, a small bowl of fruit, utensils, cups and a carafe of pumpkin juice appeared on the table.

"Thank you Johanis," Said Harry. The elf nodded and walked back into the kitchen.

Even as they both started on the food, Harry had a sudden inspiration.

"Hermione, what do you think has happened to us the last couple of months?" he asked.

The result of his quiet question startled him. Hermione dropped her porridge spoon onto her bowl with a clatter.

"What do you mean, Harry?" came the reply in a slightly panicked voice. The question had come out of the blue and since she had been thinking about exactly that question, she blurted her answer before engaging her brain.

The reaction surprised Harry, but he quickly decided she seemed nervous due to the unexpectedness of his question. He determinedly drove forward to explain what he meant.

"When did we quit being people who were making a difference in the world and again become passive students who waited until some teacher shoveled knowledge at us?"

Hermione stared at Harry in surprise. Of all the possible things Harry might have wanted to talk about after his lead-in phrase, this subject had never crossed her mind.

She attempted to order her skittering mind.

"We are making a difference, Harry. Just look at how you are influencing your two DADA classes. I DO believe that my Mundane Studies class WILL make a change in wizarding culture as we move to the future. And just like my class will influence the youngsters, your Mundane pub will have an effect upon the older students."

"But it's not happening now," snapped a frustrated sounding Harry as he ruffed his hand through his disordered hair.

Hermione stared at him for almost a minute as Harry fidgeted in his chair. He looked as though he was about to leap up and bolt when Hermione placed her hand on his arm.

"Alright, Harry. _Now_ can you tell me what is _really_ eating at you?

 **A/N:**

 **Apologies for the lo-o-ong delay.**

 **Usual excuses. Crippling writers block, Dad fell and injured himself necessitating a companion/chauffeur. Week of trailer repairs. Wife had an operation, then I got sick, major truck repair cost distraction, then the killer was the Win7 black screen of death. Took a couple of months to pony up the needed replacement benjamins. And of course I gave my wife the cough-until-bits-of your-lung-come-out that I had.**

 **I think it is called Real Life.**

 **No promises on next chapter.**

 **However, we now have the Ball on the 17** **th** **, Yule and the Solstice 'Mot meeting, Christmas,**

 **and the 28** **th** **is looming. Harry has places to go and things to do.**


	28. Chapter 28, after lessons and warnings

CHAPTER 28

The usual disclaimer.

All rights to recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling,

And other assorted corporations.

I receive no compensation from my work here.

Angsty or revealing. Which are we to be today?

 **Almost did not post this 4K bit of words, but I will take whatever gets my writing synapses to reconnect.**

 _Hermione stared at him for almost a minute as Harry fidgeted in his chair. He looked as though he was about to leap up and bolt when Hermione placed her hand on his arm._

" _Alright, Harry._ Now _can you tell me what is really eating at you?_

Harry froze. He made no move to jerk his arm away from Hermione. His jaw may have stayed shut but his eyes were the size of galleons.

Despite her extreme nervousness, Hermione forced herself to remain calm and serene. She continued to look Harry in his eyes. She was trying hard not to look too hard or glare into them.

She was attempting to make her own eyes look puzzled friendly yet with a query. She felt the tremors of her hand on Harry's arm was giving her nerves away, but he did not seem to notice.

Harry kept staring at her. He finally opened his mouth but no words emerged. Hermione could see his Adams' apple bob as Harry tried talking.

Again, maturity hard-won, kept Hermione from doing her usual of putting words in his mouth or trying to force Harry to speak. She kept her expression looking curious without demanding answers.

" _Well damn it, I am curious but I think browbeating him into an answer right now is not going to work. Calm, Hermione. Calm with some puzzlement. Keep the good vibes going. His brain will re-engage sometime."_

She started running her thumb in circles on his arm. It was a minor thing; however, it gave her a small stimulus to notice instead of allowing her concentrated gaze to fall into the trap of demanding immediate answers. He already looked about to pass out.

Suddenly Harry mumbled something too low and fast for Hermione to make out.

"I'm sorry Harry, what did you say?"

"Ididn'twantourdatetoend," Harry repeated just loud enough that she thought she understood him.

Impossibly, Harry's eyes got even larger as he seemed to understand what he had just said.

Suddenly Hermione could feel Harry's muscles bunch along his arm.

" _He's going to run,"_ she realized.

It (whatever it was) suddenly hit her. After nearly seven years of being the best of friends, seven years of terror, laughter, angst, triumph and damned teenage hormones, their road had reached a fork.

One turning went back to the old, safe relationship. Where two friends would do literally anything for the happiness of the other.

The other way was unknown and unexplored. That road would take courage to follow as a trip down it could damage the most precious thing in her world.

Her friendship with Harry Potter.

And right now, Hermione Granger did not have the time to perform her usual meticulous analysis of the problem. At the moment, time was her enemy.

"Harry James Potter, if your arse leaves that chair, I will hex you three ways from Sunday and then _Incarcerous_ you."

Harry's mouth ran without his brain working.

"Merlin, woman. What is it about you and your threats to hex people sitting in a chair across a table from you?"

Hermione's thoughts flashed back to the meeting with Greengrass and Davis months ago.

"In that case, I will ask you do you prefer the jinx I was doing to use on Davis or the hex I planned for Greengrass? I can go either way."

" _Keep him talking. The more he talks, the lower the odds are he will panic and do something stupid."_

Harry ran his hand through his already disheveled hair.

"I really do not want to pick. You enjoyed sticking it to Davis just a bit too much during our talk with her earlier."

Instead of looking everywhere except at her, he suddenly looked straight into her eyes. "The problem with picking the Daphne hex is that now she has slept with me. As I suspect you do not like her doing that, your hex would probably be nastier than usual."

Hermione felt her face flush red.

" _Harry never had that little smirk before this year,"_ she thought as he continued.

"Besides, you cannot hex me here. You will scare the house elves."

And the smirk grew.

Hermione decided to tease back. Keeping her voice quiet and level, she said, "Actually, rather than hex you, I would rather have you tell me why you suddenly considered tonight to have been a date for us."

It was now Harry's turn to flush bright red.

" _Score,"_ thought Hermione.

She felt the muscles in his arm start to tense again and squeezed his arm a bit tighter.

"Uh-uh-uh, Mister Potter," she said. "If you run away, I will hunt you down and all you will change is that you will die tired."

Harry goggled back at Hermione. It took him some seconds to figure she was taking the mickey on him. Then he paid closer attention to her eyes. They may have seemed calm, but that oh-so familiar steel was lurking in the background.

Staring into those oh-so-chocolate eyes that featured in many of his better dreams, Harry came to the conclusion that right now, their relationship had just reached a vital point. Everything that was good in his life had featured Sirius, quidditch, Ron, the Weasleys' and most especially, Hermione Granger.

His mind flashed through the feelings Daphne had brought to the fore last week. He had been trying to forget how all the times he had almost lost her terrorized him. And gut hurting feelings that followed his realization that Ron and him were not the limits of Hermione Grangers world.

"Alright Harry. Now answer the question. Why was tonight a date?"

Staring at the pattern of the weave of the table cloth instantly became important to Harry.

"Harry," came that calm, beloved voice.

It took three tries before Harry could make his voice anything except a squeak.

"Because we went dancing with food and drinks. I realized I did not want the night to end yet, so now we are having dinner. What we have been doing seems like a date to me."

Harry shrugged as he continued. "I mean I only have a sort of half date with Cho to compare it to."

Striving to keep her demeanor calm was a very hard thing at the moment. She wanted to jump up and spin around in joy screaming "YES, YES, YES."

Instead, Hermione let a large smile bloom on her face.

"Why yes, Mr. Potter, I do believe we have met the criterion for a date."

Forcing herself to plow ahead while keeping the smile plastered upon her face she kept on.

"Tell me, will we meet these qualifications again in the near future?" She worked hard at keeping the longing from her voice that she wanted a repeat, but she was aware that some of that hope had leached over into her question.

Harry suddenly sharpened his gaze into her eyes. "Why yes Miss Granger, I do believe we should attempt a repeat."

His face morphed into a soft smile. "As a matter of fact, I believe that we can turn our Hogsmeade trip for my robes into a date. Perhaps with the addition of a date-like element during the trip, we could actually call it one."

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Having fallen asleep late due to his worrying about today's trip into Hogsmeade, Harry arose later than usual. He could tell from the condition of the bathroom that Hermione had already made her morning ablutions.

After showering, he made no made no effort to hurry finishing and dressing. A late breakfast would allow them to go from the Great Hall to the carriages without having to kill time in between.

Harry made a special attempt to dress in a nice light grey button-down shirt and black slacks with black boots. The last few nights had seen cold, blowing, miserable rain and Hogsmeade would certainly be muddy today. After a last futile attempt at taming his hair, Harry walked out his door into the suite's salon.

Hermione was already curled up in one of the chairs reading a book even at this early hour. The size of the book and her casual body language told Harry she was probably reading one of her "trashy romance" novels versus a class book.

She marked her place and closed the book as Harry appeared. Harry noted she looked different. It took him a moment to notice that Hermione, like himself, had dressed in better clothes then she usually wore into Hogsmeade.

Jeans had been replaced with dark brown wool slacks and her jumper was a nice soft looking dark forest green with a silver, green and brown silky scarf around her neck. Her hair was gathered into low pony tail that flowed down her back rather than bushy-ing out below her shoulder blades as was usual. And her face looked . . . different . . . .

The smile she greeted him with seemed to match his own nervousness.

"Well," she started. "Are we going as students or professors today?'

The question caught Harry by surprise. "Um, students I think. I don't believe I've ever seen a professor on a date in Hogsmeade before."

Hermione gave a small snort as she dove into their small cloak closet and pulled out his heavy winter cloak to hand to Harry before grabbing the same item for herself before walking out the door.

It took all her willpower to keep from grinning like a loon as she played in her head the memory of buying those cloaks back in August. She truly thought he looked dashing in what she had picked out for him.

Harry noticed that Hermione and he seemed to be attracting more attention than usual at breakfast.

When he mentioned that thought over breakfast, she regarded him with a smirk on her face.

"Could the attention possibly be due to our dazzling dance performance in front of dozens last night? Face it, Harry. We looked like quite the young society couple last night. Dancing gracefully with floating and spinning, not to mention our scandalous moves during the Viennese Waltz," she replied somewhat whimsically.

Her explanation was validated by almost every female in the Eighth year suddenly gathering around the pair. Tracey and Megan being the notable absences.

The interrogation was thorough and brutal, though fortunately short.

Yes, the training was from the Black Sisters. And yes, Harry and Hermione would run a special instruction class next Sunday for their classmates.

As the gathering broke up to return to the business of eating, Daphne gracefully set down across from them. Her expressionless face seemed rather ominous Harry decided.

"Granger," she said. "I know you are his date to the ball, but by the end of the day, every girl in this school will have heard about last night and will become bound and determined to have a dance with the Prince of Hogwarts. Between the PureBlood Princess' who are being prodded into hunting Lord Potter-Black and the male scions of distinguished houses that want your power to freshen their bloodlines and to use your influence with Potter, you two will be besieged with offers to dance. I would not be surprised at teams forming whose sole goal would be to separate you two and keep you apart for the evening. And then the night."

She stared at their stunned looking faces for a few seconds. " _They both may be frighteningly intelligent, but they just do not understand PureBlood machinations over family power and continuance. Most Head of Family PureBloods have been indoctrinated ruthlessly in both areas for centuries. Many do not hold a job. And as the saying goes, "Idle hands are a Dark Lord's playthings.""_

"Lucky for you," she continued after a moment, " _I_ happen to have been an Evil Slytherin once upon a time, and therefor know of a way to keep the leeches at bay."

She now gave the pair a small smile, and then concentrated on Hermione.

"Remember that giggly group of sixth years?" At Hermione's nod, she continued. "They were untutored amateurs. The professionals are coming after you now."

At their continued concussed look, she huffed. "I really thought Madam Black had done a more thorough job on you. I will give you a week to find your own way to salvation. After that, my price will be two dances with Lord Potter-Black."

The smirking, subtly gloating blonde stood and made shooing motions. "Off on your trip to Hogsmeade. And _do not_ give a positive answer to anyone who wants a dance with you at the Ball. Give excuses and obfuscations, you two."

The pair talked quietly about Daphne and her bolt from the blue surprise during their walk through the castle and during the carriage trip to the village.

Once there, they first went to the Hogsmeade branch of Twillfit and Tatings. The normally quiet little annex was rapidly filled after their arrival by Ball robe and dress purchasers. After forty-five minutes of waiting and fitting, Harry became the owner of a set of formal acromantula silk black robes with short, thin trimmings in scarlet fading to maroon with decorative panels of matching maroon fading to black. At the fitting woman's suggestion, a formal coat was added in the same colour scheme as the robe. Harry felt the coat with its long tails, large decorative silver buttons and open front was from the early 1800's. Modern day wizard style.

Harry had no say in the fit or colour of the robes as Hermione was in `All will be perfect or heads will roll' mode.

After they left the robe shop, they made the obligatory stops at Zonko's for sweets and Scrivener's for quill and parchment supplies. Harry noticed two things during these stops, Hermione was distracted and looked to about nibble her lower lip raw. And almost every group of students was regarding them like a pack of lions examining wounded prey.

As they stepped into the street in front of Scrivener's, Harry stopped and when Hermione turned to him, he reached out and clasped both her shoulders.

"Hermione," he said gently, "What is wrong?"

Hermione was not looking him back.

"I just regressed back into my bossy, know-it-all mode, didn't I," she mumbled sadly.

Harry gently squeezed her shoulders.

"Yes, you were channeling younger Hermione. However, you are forgiven because you know, and I know, that I am pants at choosing stylish clothing. And it is important that we look our best at the Ball. I believe we will be scrutinized and reported on as though we were society debutants from a hundred years ago."

That last brought her eyes up to meet his.

"Think back, Hermione," he replied to her unspoken question. "In fourth year, we were under a damned microscope at a Christmas Ball due to the Tri-Wizard Tournament. We were just kids and should have been allowed to be just kids then. Remember how bad the scrutiny was then. Now, all of Britain's wizarding world knows we are going to graduate in the spring."

He continued on. "And now that Voldemort is dead and vanished into the wind, many people are looking forward to us wielding power to instantly make our islands a paradise. Others are plotting to ensure we never touch the basis for their power."

"And as usual, most people will do nothing to help us as they expect us heroes to forever keep giving them whatever they want, dream of, or fantasize about."

The left side of his mouth quirked up in a sad looking half-smile. "Welcome back to the fang and claw wizarding world jungle, Hermione. We have had our two-month break."

Hermione did not move or blink for almost a minute as she lost herself staring into Harry's jade bright eyes.

She shook herself slightly and returned his half smile with one of her own.

She then turned and looked at the Three Broomsticks. "Well, since a second date should include food, may I assume a light lunch is on today's schedule?"

She missed the smirk that crossed Harry's face.

"You have assumed correctly, Miss Granger. Tilitsy!"

The Potter Head Elf popped into existence in front of Harry.

"Is one of the places I asked you to check on suitable for what I want?" he asked the happy creature.

"Yes, Master Harry. Your second choice has the requirement you asked for and I have set up the needed comfort charms. Everything else that you wanted is ready also. I can take both of you there now," she finished eagerly looking back and forth between the pair.

Harry glanced at Hermione who had a slightly raised eyebrows, questioning look on her face.

"Yes Hermione, there will be food, but I thought we might try something besides the local ambiance."

Familiar by now with house elf apparition, Hermione stuck her hand out and down, and as soon as Tilitsy grabbed both their hands, they were someplace else.

The `someplace else' was windier, much cloudier and colder than Hogsmeade. Twenty feet away was a table for two, covered with a white tablecloth with a pair of chairs sitting beneath a slightly shimmering, sparkly dome.

The two hurried through the biting wind over toward the table. When they were ten feet away, they entered the dome and the wind and noise went away and the temperature became much warmer.

Harry conjured a cloak stand and helped Hermione remove her now not needed scarf and heavy cloak and moved to hang them up. As he turned back to her, he was shocked to see her in the midst of removing her heavy woolen jumper also.

He froze. He wanted to tell her to stop, but his mouth didn't work. He desperately tried to avoid staring as he could see her bare belly as the pullover jumper rose over her chest, burying her face and head. It was at this point he saw that she had a light green t-shirt on underneath the jumper. Shaking her hair free, she passed the jumper to Harry, and tugged the t-shirt down, apparently not noticing his blushing discomfort.

" _You would think I should not be so affected by her casually taking off a jumper after we spent months together in a tent."_

" _Yeah, but back then you believed she fancied Ron,"_ his mind answered back.

Jumbled thoughts kept swirling around in Harry's mind as he seated her at the table. As he went to sit down, a tea setting appeared along with a platter of small sandwiches.

Hermione took it all in stride, not stressing over how elf magic had created a little oasis in the midst of chilly . . wherever? She shrugged and proceeded to pour tea in their cups and placed a pair of cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches on her plate.

"Is now the time when you can tell me why we are here as part of our . . . date?" she asked.

Harry yanked his thoughts away from his introspection and looked to his right.

"The reason should be right there in about ten seconds," he said pointing with a lift of his chin.

Hermione just realized she was staring at a very rough, foamy grey sea. Then she suddenly comprehended that they were sitting on a grassy headland just a few feet back from the edge of a cliff. And when she looked where Harry indicated across a small embayment, a huge rolling sea exploded at the base of another cliff about a quarter mile away throwing water and spray hundreds of feet into the sky where it was whipped away by the wind.

Hermione realized she had felt the shock of the monster wave hitting the cliff through her feet and the chair she was sitting on. She also saw the beauty in the violence as the thrown-up water cascaded down the many ledges of the cliff face trying to reach the ocean before another wave could pound the water back up the cliff.

Hermione was unaware that that her tea in in her cup was getting cold as she forgot to drink it watching ocean swell after swell become fifty-foot-tall waves in the shallows just before exploding against the cliff, mesmerized by the raging battle as water endlessly fought to destroy the land.

It took almost fifteen minutes before Hermione stopped watching the mesmerizing view of stormy sea, flying spray and raucous birds wheeling above the cliff tops.

Noticing her tea was cold, she casually vanished it and refilled her cup from the hot pot.

"How did you find this place, Harry?" she asked quietly. She could speak normally as the dome seemed to cancel out most of the roaring of the pounding waves as well as keeping the charmed area warm.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck as he pinked up a bit from embarrassment.

"I didn't," he said. "I overheard a couple of fourth years talking about how impressive something like this was on the north coast of Wessex after a storm. They said their parents told them the biggest waves usually arrived after the storm was past.

"So, I asked Tilitsy to find someplace like this where I could take you. I thought it would be a bit different."

"Where are we, Harry?" she asked.

"Um, just southwest of Cape Wrath, I think," he replied. "Not really that far from Hogwarts."

"Those fourth years were right. This is definitely different." She nodded back.

Both of them then proceeded to relax, drink their tea, nibble upon the tasty finger sandwiches and admire the constantly changing view.

It was nearly an hour and a half later when the pair decided it was time to return to Hogsmeade.

With a pop, Tilitsy had them both at the Hogsmeade apparition point. They then walked over to the Three Broomsticks where they spent a couple of hours drinking butterbeers and talking with others who just wanted out of the castle for a while.

Later that evening after studying and homework, Harry was preparing himself for bed when there was a tapping at his door.

Puzzled, he windlessly opened the door and was surprised to see a flannel pajamaed Hermione.

Wordlessly she crossed the room and climbed into his bed. Harry automatically tried to cover his surprise.

She laid on her right side and waited as he climbed in under the covers with her and then pushed herself to spoon against him, wrapping her left arm around his chest.

Relishing the feeling of completeness her proximity gave him, he was surprised when she softly spoke in his ear as he was starting to drift off

"Thank you, Harry. That was a lovely trip to the coast today. Energetic, yet peaceful. I think I needed that. We should do something like that more often."

She almost stopped breathing hoping for a positive answer.

"Yes, Hermione, we should," came his almost inaudible reply.

 **A/N:**

 **Odd chapter, yet it is what my brain wanted to write. And after so many weeks (months!)** **of**

 **my hamster muse being belligerently silent, I'll take what I can get.**

 **Our two idiots will get a clue soon.**

 **I've gotten a few comments that my Daphne is too fanon.**

 **Several points. IMO, in about 65% of fics she is highly intelligent, statuesque, blonde and blue-eyed. About 25%, she is a highly intelligent, stunning raven haired, blue-eyed beauty. The remaining 7%, she is whatever.**

 **As the story summery says, I'll use every common trope I can remember.**

 **For those who think I do not know any better, I recommend the long, one-chapter story**

 **Ice Princess by Luan Mao.**

 **Definitely a different Daphne Greengrass from what we are used to reading.**


	29. Chapter 29 A Yule Ball, Huzzah

Granger, we need to talk

CHAPTER 29

Usual disclaimers.

I do not incur any monetary benefit from this writing.

I write for my own entertainment.

(Although lately it has been a hell of a thrash.)

All recognizable character rights belong to JK Rowling and a bunch of others.

Shall we dance? Eventually

Along with most of the other Eighth Year males, Harry waited for his Yule Wizarding Ball date to appear in the Eighth's common room. He was fidgeting with the red foil-wrapped box in his hands. And frankly, he had nothing to do except review what had gone on the last two weeks. All the young men gathered were too nervous to make small talk.

The Sunday after the Cape Wrath trip had been occupied by studying in the Eighth's common room to make up for missing Friday night and Saturday. They were using the public area to lower the chance of Lord Moragaine Designate Tracey Davis from first hexing rather than yelling at them.

They did not find out for a week that Davis had been intercepted by Daphne and Bulstrode and had been kept as a virtual prisoner by the two women until she had cooled off enough to promise no jinxing, hexing or cursing of Potter-Black and his evil henchwoman.

After a day of seething glares at whichever of the Evil Couple was in sight, the righteously unhappy witch was granted an audience in the Heads of House salon Monday night.

After a fifteen-minute rant about how unfair Lord Potter-Black was in dumping his Rite of Conquest House on her with no warning, no negotiations, no time for preparations, no . .

The Lord Potter-Black kept his Lordship face impassive through the rant. Among the reasons for his imperturbability, was that a letter from Lord Davis had arrived in the morning owl post. The letter, when stripped of its stilted formality, essentially said to throw her into the deep end. She would learn to swim. And that a couple of unobvious guardians could be assigned to make sure she did not slip below the surface.

Harry did not know Lord Davis but was giving her the Lordship mostly on the recommendation of Narcissa who did know Tracey's father.

After young Davis had wound down, Harry brought to her attention that in her haste to talk to her parents and gain information on House Moragaine, she had overlooked that Lord Potter-Black, Order of Merlin Designate Granger, Madam Tonks, Madam Black and Gringotts were all available to give her information she might want.

"I fact, Miss Davis, here is a Letter of Introduction to the Gringotts House Moragaine Account Manager to treat you as my representative. The appointment is this Saturday at eleven in the morning. Do not be late."

Harry had been surprised upon inquiring at Gringotts to find that a smaller, less prestigious Ancient House only rated an Account Manager. Not a Senior Account Manager as House Potter and House Black were accorded.

Harry did not crack a smile as he handed over the scroll. "Any arrangements with the Black Sisters you will have to make for yourself. We will talk again on the twentieth, the day before Yule and the Wizengamot meeting."

Harry's casual dismissal of her caught Tracey by surprise, but training carried her through the formal leaving phrases before she left.

Turning to look at Hermione, he found she had an unfocused pensive look versus the evil look of glee he expected.

He waited almost a minute before quietly asking her what she thought about this meeting with Tracey.

It took two tries before Hermione was pulled out from wherever her mind had been.

After giving Harry a lackluster affirmative on a successful meeting, she excused herself and went off to her room.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The remainder of the week was filled with studying for their own NEWT classes and having to prepare the end of term examinations for the classes they were teaching. Harry had additional work in putting final touches on his Underground Pub project plans and getting final approvals from rushed teachers preparing their own class exams.

Harry was back to wondering why Hermione was acting distant again. Something was bothering her, and she would not talk about it to him. It was not that she ignored him or was hostile. Harry could feel another withdrawal from their usual free and easy camaraderie.

Friday evening found the pair in the Eighth's common room commiserating with each other over the end of term examinations they had given that day to their classes while getting some studying for their own exams done. When Greengrass confronted them, they both had to finally admit that she had been correct. They had been inundated with requests, and some out-right demands, for a dance or more at the Ball. Following her advice, they had prevaricated and obfuscated, leaving several disgruntled non-veteran sixth and seventh years.

With a hugely cheerful smirk she presented each of them with a filled-out dance card. In numeric order, a name had been placed beside each dance. Harry noted that he had the first two dances with Hermione, then a dance with Greengrass, Hermione again, then the next two dances were with . . urk, Luna and Ginny.

After quickly glancing at Neville, he then peeked at Hermione's card and saw she was dancing with Neville whilst Harry was twirling with his girlfriends. Harry _still_ had moments when how his friend Neville had changed perplexed him. In spite of talking with him, Harry knew he did not understand how his friend had morphed from a shy, bumbling boy, into the brave young man who had followed him into the Ministry fifth year. He knew he had missed much from not having been part of the school resistance last year. Particularly, just what had impelled Neville into the brave, daring man who became the heart and soul of the Hogwarts rebellion.

Continued reading showed that both cards had been filled out with over two hours of dance partners. Almost all of the non-Hermione fill-ins were girls he knew from the dorm or veterans from the DA. Hermione's card was the same except the fill-ins were male.

Harry quickly read how many dances were required of him. He groaned internally as he comprehended just how sore his feet would be at the end of the night.

Having waited patiently while the Clueless Duo absorbed their cards, Daphne spoke, "Definitely worth two dances, I would say. The main difference in your cards that they do not have you dancing at the same time with a known pair of "betrothal hunters."

The smirking blonde rested her chin on her upright pointed forefinger.

She looked straight at Hermione and said, "Perhaps I sold out too cheaply. I believe I should demand a third dance."

Hermione glared right back with a deep growl. This was her Harry night and no one was going to take her place. It might be for only one night, but she was bound and determined that it would be a night she could remember for the rest of her life, no matter how cold her bed might be in the future.

Seeing the look on Granger's face and the way her hand was almost subconsciously reaching for her wand, Daphne decided to stop teasing her.

"So, I have earned my payment. My advice would be to duplicate the list and flash the duplicate quickly at anyone who is particularly bothersome and then leave. Those raised in the upper echelons of society will understand."

She then gave Hermione a raised eyebrow look. "I assume you have read `Pride and Prejudice'?" Hermione nodded sharply. "Would anyone in the book dare to presume to dance with a lady who stated that her dance card was full?"

Hermione shook her head no.

"The same will apply to those of Britannia wizarding society who will attend the Ball. That parchment is your free pass for the evening." Daphne started to turn away, then swiveled back. "And of course, do remember to check everything you eat or drink for umm . . contaminants?"

And with what had to be her trademark smirk, she was off again on her business.

Hermione watched her leave, still fingering her wand.

"She is up to something. I am going to have a long, possibly painful for _her_ talk with her soon. In fact, soon is approaching rapidly,' she snarled.

Harry looked at her with mild surprise.

"You have done that once," he said. "I was there, remember?"

"Oh, I remember. And have you noticed she has been remarkably friendly despite the verbal spanking I delivered. No revenge threats, no hostile glares, no sniping behind my back. In fact, she has been nothing except helpful. Extraordinarily helpful, I might add."

"Tell me, Harry," she continued. "Am I paranoid if she really _is_ plotting something?"

Harry had regarded her and shrugged. He had no answer for her, but resolved to not belittle her concerns. She had been wrong two years ago about his suspicions of Malfoy. He remembered how her dismissal had wounded him. He would not casually dismiss her misgivings.

The last week had again been mostly some end of term examinations, some more Underground Pub work and the growing excitement and distraction of the Yule Ball. The plans for the Order of Merlin awards at the Winter Solstice Wizengamot session were finalized. And Narcissa was beginning to query him about having someone on his arm for the Ministry New Year's Ball.

Classes had ended on Thursday, and on Friday a large part of the students spent the day in a huge, traditional snowball fight. (Huh? The last pre-Ball snowball fight had been four years ago. What tradition some snarked?) The nae-sayers had been thoroughly pummeled by masses of Banished show. With some snowballs included. Tradition has to start sometime.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Four years ago, the girls of Hogwarts had apparently established the `every girl will help every other girl to the best of her ability' tradition. All the Eighth-Year girls, and any veterans who asked to join them, had spent the afternoon doing `pampering'.

Pampering apparently involved a giggling group walk by every girl through the common room to the sybaritic bath at the end of the corridor. After two hours, the group strolled back to the girl's corridor in fluffy white dressing gowns that varied from floor-length full coverage to mid-thigh and barely tied.

Inevitably it was Seamus who could not resist whistling, then saying, "Merlin's sagging left sac! Can I get a couple of you birds to join me for a before ball warm-up good time?"

As best Harry could tell, he'd been hit by a _Silencio,_ four stinging hexes and something that turned his skin and hair bright yellow and an _Impedimentia_ jinx.

Some people froze at the sudden spellfire. Others dove for cover and others had shields up so fast Harry was proud of his friends.

The girl's wands disappeared as fast as they had appeared.

It was Luna who broke the tension when she tilted her head and looked at the sight of Seamus.

"It is well known that yellow is my absolutely most favorite colour. However, you Seamus, are going to have to learn subtly if you are trying to woo me."

That broke the tension and left everyone laughing. And left Seamus yellow.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The first visions of loveliness to appear from the girl's dormitories were Padma Patil and Lisa Turpin. Padma's silver and light blue form-fitting dress was vaguely sari like and unlike the Tri-Wizard Ball, her extensive jewelry was silver instead of gold. Her hair had been done as a braided crown with the hair not used in the crown trailing in a waist-length fall down her back.

Lisa had a more traditional form-fitting dance robe that started as near glowing forest green, fading to white at the floor. Her dark blonde hair had become wavy and curly yet somehow the weight of its length did not flatten her hair on the top of her head which held a delicate silver tiara.

Their respective dates, Michael Corner and Ernie MacMillan, handled greeting their visions of bewitching beauty with more aplomb than Harry thought possible considering how utterly enchanting the two girls looked.

Beautiful young woman followed each other. Susan Bones in striking amber robes, Greengrass in an eye-catching white silvery confection robe that would remind everyone about the Slytherin Ice Queen. _"Merlin, she is so-o-o beautiful!"_ Tracey was in a daringly cut satin black robe, and seeing his reaction to Daphne, seemed torn between laughing at him, or wanting to hex him into pieces.

" _And who had worked on Bulstrode's makeover_?" She wore an off-white robe that while classic, left no doubt her size and shape were built on muscle, not flab.

Millicent gave a sigh as she produced a handkerchief and wiped drool off of Ron's chin before they left for the Great Hall. But she was smiling.

Harry tried but knew he was gaping as Luna and Ginny came down the stairs, arms linked in the sparkling light yellow and light green dresses respectively as they walked up to a stunned Neville before quietly, yet thoroughly, kissing him deeply to inspect his tonsils for defects.

Somehow, he had known that just as for the Tri-Wizard Ball, Hermione would be the last to exit. His last coherent thought was that he was glad he had watched the other beautiful young women precede her. He would have never noticed them if she had appeared earlier. Four years ago, she had shocked him with her beauty. This time he truly thought she looked like a goddess.

Her magnificent, yet tamed hair was again piled high emphasizing her long, kissable neck. _"Kissable? Where did that thought come from? And is her hair a couple of shades darker? "_ She did not have the tiny ringlets framing her face this time. Her eyes were huge from bronze (?) eye make-up without looking garish, and her mature cheekbones were emphasized. As his eyes managed to work their way down, he saw her lips were a dark red that went with her so-dark-red-it-was-almost-black dress robe.

He now realized why she had wanted the red and maroon highlights on his robes. They were to match the dark red that morphed on her robes as she moved.

The neck was high, her arms bare, and the dress form-fitting until her hips, yet the gathering gave it an ancient Grecian look. At her hips, the drape of the gowns' gatherings exposed half her right thigh as she walked, while trailing to the ground on her left. An ancient-looking bronze chain belt cinched the dress tightly to her defined waist before the end trailed half-way down her covered left thigh. Her knee-high, leather weaved, three-inch high solid heeled sandals were black, but exposed toes whose nails matched her lips. Dangling, linked black stone earrings and a wide alternating red and black bracelet, almost a bracer, on her right wrist finished her look off.

He now realized why she had wanted the red and maroon highlights on his robes. They were to match the dark red that morphed on her robes as she moved.

Suddenly, as she started her descent, he realized his Goddess was not an angel of Peace and Harmony. From a book on the magical history of Greece he had read during the Horcrux Hunt he suddenly knew who she was.

She was the powerful, ancient Grecian witch Enyo, Destroyer of Cities and possibly the Mother of Deimos and Phobos, Panic and Fear.

The tiny part of Harry's brain that was not locked-up in awe, was thinking how apt her dress/robe was. They had pillow talked about her plans for months. Plans plotting destruction to the PureBlood Culture bias of Britannia.

Watching her, Harry's sputtering brain was having a brief fantasy of his Destroyer Goddess stepping down from the peak of a pile of Blood Purists that wailed and lamented their fate.

And in that instant, he wanted to be with her every step of the way.

As she smirked at his astounded expression, she descended the stairs from the sleeping rooms.

Reaching Harry, she raised her black shawl-draped arms and draped them over his shoulders. With her lips an inch away from his, her breath tickling him, she gave him her best puppy dog eyes and asked, "I take it you approve?"

On his third attempt, Harry managed to gurgle a "Yes."

"Then Milord Potter-Black, let us be on our way."

And with brain-melting peck on his lips, she spun and took position on his left arm.

" _I am eighteen years old. Why are there two women who keep doing this to my brain?"_

Her movement shocked his brain into working again.

"One moment, Hermione." He stopped her and produced the red foil-wrapped box from a pocket. He gave it to her to be unwrapped. With great care and delicacy, Hermione removed the foil and opened the box. From it she took a pair of red-tipped white roses.

As she held them, he said, "Even a dunderhead like me can tell these will just not do."

Producing his wand, he changed the color of the roses to dark red and used a sticking charm to place them on the right shoulder of her dress.

Looking deep into her eyes, he nodded and produced his left arm again.

Harry and Hermione arrived at the doors to the Great Hall a fashionable ten minutes late. They stopped for photographs being taken by Dennis Creevey.

As they entered the Great Hall, both of them looked around at the new décor. Gone were the long house tables. Icy stalagmites and stalactites grew from the floor and the cloudy white indistinct ceiling. A dozen or so evergreen trees that looked a bit taller than them were sprinkled around. Except for the dance floor and the orchestra area, the trees and the floor both seemed to be covered in fresh-fallen snow, yet the snow was not cold on their feet, or soaking their shoes, or the wetting bottom of the girl's long robes.

More than a score of round, eight-person tables with white table clothes and white chairs completed the room.

"Not as fancy as it was for the Tri-Wizard Ball, is it?" Harry muttered softly over the sound of the background music.

"No, this is just a school dance. Not an attempt to show-off to the other premier magic schools," was her quiet reply.

Taking his Gryffindor courage in both hands, he looked for Neville and lead Hermione over to the table occupied by him his girlfriends and interestingly, Ron and Millicent.

He and Hermione greeted the other five and sat down. They were no sooner seated at the pristine table when the Millicent started the evenings first pick-on-the-men cycle. She mentioned how she was developing an appetite and would Ron please get her a plate of _hors d'oeuvres._

Luna immediately picked up on the theme while Ginny reinforced her by outrageously batting her eyelashes at Neville. Harry could see how the flow was going and stood up before Hermione's evil smirk became a _faux_ pitiful plea.

Suddenly, Harry noticed the now standing Neville was wearing his evil smirk. _("What is this? Everyone smirk and pick on Harry night?")_

"Lord Potter-Black. Since it appears that you know _everything_ about my girlfriend," he said, indicating Luna to a wincing Harry. "You must know she is now feeling thirsty. Perhaps you will be kind enough to bring us a round of butterbeers?"

Hermione and Ginny quickly caught on to Neville's ploy. Apparently, this was the first official payback for snatching Luna from his bed. Both girls did terrible imitations of simpering fan girls with a near-simultaneous "Aww, would you please, Lord Potter-Black?"

Harry heard the giggles and snickers that broke out behind him as he wended his way to the beverage bar where a Hogwarts house elf as handing out pitchers of pumpkin juice, water, and bottles of butterbeer and short, squat glasses that had the Hogwarts crest on the side.

Placing the glasses upside down on the butterbeer bottles and conjuring a carrying tray, Harry headed back to the table and after passing around the bottles he sat and joined in the rush to eat something before the dancing started. Most everyone was hungry, particularly the girls, as dinner that evening had been sandwiches in the house common rooms and none of them had wanted to leave the prep rooms or take any chance of staining a gown before meeting their escort.

Finger sandwiches, crisps, cakes, pie and biscuits were all avidly consumed.

The group spent a half hour making school small talk and commenting _sotto voce_ on some of the tackier clothing ensembles on display while fueling hungry teenage bodies for the strenuous dancing ahead.

The quiet background music was interrupted by the Orchestra leader announcing that Headmistress McGonagall was going to say a few words.

The stern-faced Scots woman then proceeded to remind the attendees that this was a cultural event, and proper decorum was expected at all times.

Harry very quietly voiced that, "Since we were not working at impressing those _foreign schools_ , she must have felt she did not have to threaten us with _dire consequences_ if there was any tomfoolery this time around."

The boys snickered, the girls either ignored him or looked scandalized. Hermione leaned in close and whispered, "Stealing my lines about this Ball, Harry?"

Harry had the grace to blush at that last jibe.

Barely five minutes later, the leader of the wizarding orchestra stepped forward and proclaimed the first dance.

"May I please have the Head Girl and Head Boy on the floor to start the first dance," he announced.

Verbena Fencroft and John McGeough met on the dance floor, held each other in the approved fashion, and stepped into dancing gracefully on the second measure.

After about thirty seconds, the leader again proclaimed, "Next, may we have Heads of Eighth Year house, Lord Harry Potter-Black, and Miss Hermione Granger."

Looking at each other in surprise, as they had not been told this would happen, the pair none the less rose and Harry escorted her onto the dance floor. Fighting himself not to get flustered or embarrassed by the attention they were drawing, Harry surprised himself by looking into Hermione's eyes and became instantly lost in them. He was so distracted he missed several measures of the music before a gentle prompt had him elegantly proceeding to glide her around the floor.

They never lost eye contact during that first dance. They were deaf to the leader as he called the prefects and their dates onto the floor by descending year, only peripherally noting the floor was getting busy enough they now had to occasionally dodge another not as accomplished couple.

The first waltz ended, but the duo stayed on the floor and immediately commenced moving as the second waltz started.

As it ended, they formally walked off the dance floor towards their table only to be waylaid by Daphne as they arrived. Harry knew that this was coming and it had seemed to be a reasonable way out of Hermione and his problem a week ago, but at this moment he was bitterly cursing anything that took him out of contact with his goddess.

"I believe I am penciled in for the next dance, Lord Potter-Black," purred the icily regal blonde. The flash of perturbation in Hermione's eyes vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"Yes, Heiress Greengrass, you are," Harry purred back hoping to unsettle her a bit. A lifted eyebrow flamed that snowballs' chance in Hel.

Shoving down his own emotions, he graciously air-kissed her extended hand and led her to the dance floor. It was only a few moments before the music commenced and Harry found that Daphne Greengrass indeed could dance as well, it seemed, as she could perform anything else she did. From the seamless way she followed Harry's conventional leads to not flubbing when a perversely cross Harry, started to make his moves more complicated.

As the dance ended, and the couple stopped, Daphne gave a surprised Harry a slightly longer than necessary hug.

As she stepped back, she smiled at him and said," Thank you Lord Potter-Black. I believe that was the most fun I have had dancing since my gigolo Dance Master before fourth year."

Harry became thoughtful as he escorted Greengrass back to the table where she promptly sat in the unclaimed chair.

" _I have had this beautiful creature sleeping in a bed with me with no more than a thin piece of cloth between us and not been as worked up as I am now. Hermione's going to kill me."_

Hermione did not kill him, but she was somewhat stiff and did not make eye contact with him during the next, their third dance.

The dances with Luna and Ginny were anti-climactic in comparison. Although Luna in her own inimitable, matter of fact tone, noted that anyone foolish enough to provoke a goddess of destruction probably deserved what they received. At this point in their friendship, Harry took any declaration by Luna calmly. He had no idea how she did it, but she was always right.

Ginny asserted that she "had forgiven Harry for what he had done to her future sister wife with his rashness," but doing something like that again and she would show him a new variation on her Bat Bogie spell. She called it the Bat Spermies spell. "You know, it makes bats come out of your . . "

It took Harry a moment to catch on, but the shock stopped him cold in the middle of the dance floor staring wide-eyed in shock into her eyes. Harry reeling mind noted that Ginny, unlike Hermione and Daphne, apparently had to raise both eyebrows while making sure he would never ever do whatever again.

" _How come I never noticed that when she was_ _my_ _girlfriend?"_

Harry gallantly stayed on his feet with Hermione, Susan, and Millicent and Hermione again for the next four dances. As the dance card showed Hermione next before the orchestra took a break, he begged her to walk into the enchanted gardens with him. He explained he wanted to get one of the benches to sit upon to rest his feet in peace and quiet before being besieged by other students during the break.

Harry sighed as he flopped onto a carved wooden slat bench in the garden outside the doors.

"I've been told that doing a lot of dancing in heels is hard on a girl's feet," stated Harry in a low voice. "I think almost a solid hour of dancing could be considered hard work. Would you like to share a footrest?"

At her affirmative, Harry conjured a red baize cushioned rectangular footrest and they both gratefully propped their feet upon it. The position of her propped-up legs revealed more thigh to Harry. He blushed and tried to look collected. Hermione just let a little smile grow upon her lips.

The garden had been left natural except the snow had been removed from the courtyard and path pavements. Warming charms did not completely dispel the cold December Scotland air, but the cool was refreshing to the nearly sweating pair.

Harry was sitting quietly, but his brain was whirling at high speed. He knew Hermione's dress was a message that hopefully only he would get. The Destroyer was asking for a commitment. Yet, Harry was betting that this was beyond their usual `best friends forever' line.

He had been wrestling for months over his feelings for her. His last "Snuggle Witch" time with Greengrass had brought forth his memories of loss and pain when his Hermione was hurt and injured. He suppressed these memories because not only were they painful to his brain, they made his chest hurt in ways he did not know how to deal with.

Last night, as his mind whirled around, he deliberately remembered all the great moments his friendship with Hermione Granger had brought him.

First-year. "Friendship and bravery and . . ." _"Wonder if she was going to say love?"_

Second-year was when she gave him his first-ever hug after being freed from her petrification.

Third-year. _"Thank Merlin, she was there to make the plans that freed Sirius. I think that was when it became so commonplace, we didn't realize that saving each other's lives many times was not done by most kids."_

Fourth-year. _"Without her, I would not have survived the dragon."_

Fifth-year. _"She told me it was a trap, and then followed me into it trying to save me again."_

Sixth-year. _"What happened to us?"_

The Horcrux Hunt. _"Damn Dumbledore. She stayed, Ron did not. She stuck with me. She believed in me._ _She believed in me!"_

Harry returned to the outside world to find Hermione peering at him.

Harry peered back at her. He was re-running his earlier thoughts of their many pillow talks. It only struck him now that as soon as either of them found another to date, those talks would have to end.

" _Replace her with Greengrass? She was beautiful, informed and smart as Hermione," raced through_ his head. _"But she has not been through what we have. Greengrass doesn't have the_ _instant memories of all we've shared."_

Harry realized that Hermione was starting to worry her lower lip with her teeth. He reached up and gently stopped her.

"You will ruin your lovely, luscious lipstick if you keep that up," he said.

She started to reply, then shook her head carefully and grabbed his left hand in a tight but not quite painful grip and returned her glistening eyes to the courtyard.

It was not five minutes later when virtually all their classmates descended and the girls dragged a reluctant Hermione off to the women's loo for "female time."

The young men congregated together and started by congratulating each other on how pretty, wonderful, looking good or stunning their dates were.

Harry had two young girls with too tight robes, and too much make-up, who absolutely insisted that he have a dance with them. One of them left after Harry vehemently insisted his dance card was full, and actually had to pull it out to show the second that he was not lying.

"Brutal, eh?" came the comment from Neville as he stepped up alongside Harry.

"Have you had to put up with this dragon dung?" Harry replied.

"Nope. Not since that incident in the unused classroom weeks ago. Anybody not in the DA, or an Eighth year, is terrified of crossing them," he ended with an evil smirk.

"You're really proud of them, aren't you?" Harry said.

"Very," Neville spoke through a huge grin.

"In love with both of them?"

"Very."

The flock of young women had been gone for twenty minutes and Harry was starting to get antsy.

" _Where is she?"_ he thought just as the large group spilled back into the Great Hall.

Hermione and Greengrass headed for Harry together. Greengrass was sauntering, her PureBlood mask firmly in place. Hermione was staring at him as she walked towards him.

Harry could not read her expression. That surprised him. He thought he knew her so well that he always could tell what she was thinking.

They arrived just as the band started to sit for the second session. Feeling uneasy, as though things were occurring that he did not know about, he extended his hand and led Hermione onto the dance floor.

Harry relaxed a bit as the Hermione in his arms seemed to have returned to his date of the first two waltzes. She was responsive, light in his arms and looked him in the eyes when not watching around the floor.

The Dance ended all too soon and Harry had to escort her back to the table. There, some seventh year Hufflepuff tried not to look as though the glare Harry sent him was bothering him, as he eagerly claimed the next dance with Hermione.

Harry knew he was to dance next with Padma and he looked over to where he had seen her earlier. Ahh, there she was. In a few seconds he was at her table and with a respectful nod to her date, he proceeded to bow in front of his seated sleek-haired beautiful classmate. Hermione had stressed being polite when requesting a dance. Especially since Michael and Padma were both in on the dance card conspiracy.

"Fair Miss Patil. May I have the honour of this dance?" he inquired.

In the snootiest PureBlood tones he could have imagined, she replied, "One moment please as I check my card."

Reaching into her robe, she withdrew a . . nothing? Harry watched as she then seemed to examine an invisible card, then tucked nothing back into her robe.

She then stood, extended her hand to a now confused Harry and stated, "Why Lord Potter-Black, it seems your name _is_ next on my dance card."

With that, she lightly grasped his hand and towed him out to dance.

Harry was just recovering as he assumed the dance position, then was startled again at the mirth shining in her eyes as she was trying to keep her snickering silent.

He snorted, then grinned and suddenly swept her into an exuberant waltz.

It was minutes later as now sweating pair of grinning loons exited the dance floor. Leaving Padma with a bow, Harry headed for his table and his next dance, which was with Millicent.

Dancing with Mils was oddly soothing after his vigorous Padma dance. She was having trouble relaxing. She knew all the right steps, but had been trained so diligently in not making a wrong move in settings like this, that it kept her stiff.

The dance with Padma had suddenly put Harry in one of his rare playful moods. And Merlin answered his unthought plea.

As Harry sought out Hermione for his next dance, the orchestra leader loudly announced the next dance would be Belvertian's Third Viennese Waltz.

The devilish grin that lit Harry's face as he turned to Hermione.

"Fair Enyo," he started so quietly only she could hear him.

Normally he continued, "Belle of the Ball. May I have this dance?"

He did not wait for an answer. Grabbing her hand, he led her rapidly out onto the floor. They had to squeeze through the mass of people leaving the floor. Finally, there were only two other couples left with them.

"Now I want you, Wondrous Enyo to imagine you have just left the ministry. In your wake, you have left nothing but smoking wreckage and a wailing Wizengamot."

"Show me," he whispered in her ear. "Just how big a smile would you have?"

And just like that, Hermione's face blossomed into a huge smile just as the waltz started.

What followed made Harry's blood sing. Using all the dance floor available, the pair twirled and whirled exuberantly. He did not just elevate her via both hands on her waist, Harry practically threw Hermione airborne several times. And each time she landed gracefully, practically daring him to catch up with her again.

They put on a show that would be unmatched for years and became a tale to be added to the near legend of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger at Hogwarts.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The rest of the evening passed in a barely remembered blur of dancing with many beautiful young women for Harry. Reality caught up to him when later he found his arms filled with a curvy blonde, his nose almost buried in her hair smelling of mint and apple blossoms.

It was late and the orchestra was not really playing dance music. They were playing sway music. Harry appreciated that. His feet were sore and had swelled so his shoes were killing him.

Propriety would claim that the couple was far too close together. Harry thought, _"Screw propriety. However, if Hermione is watching, she is going to peel my skin off slowly. Or hex Greengrass until her hair falls out."_

Daphne moved away just a little and raised her head.

"Since this is your third date with Granger, do not leave her hanging."

Harry stopped swaying abruptly and stared down into those lovely blue eyes.

After a moment's thought, he replied. "There are times, my lovely ex-Slytherin, when you talk inscrutably. And your assumption that I know just what twisty games your mind is working on, becomes maddening."

His look at her hardened. "Now, can you speak plainly, or do I get unhappy with you?"

He saw her eyes widen as his tone registered.

As she stared back at him, he could almost see several explanations whip through her mind. And he saw the small flinch as she bent to his will.

She spoke softly, "It is an unwritten part of the girl code that if a boy takes you out on three dates, and seems to have no intention of asking you to be his girlfriend, then it is time to look very closely at the relationship to tell if it has any chance of working."

"Eight years Harry. It has been eight years of you two edging around the big question"

The deep breath she took distracted him as it pushed her chest into him.

Daphne continued on, "Both of you are abused souls, yet you trust each other implicitly. You are both terrified of `ruining your friendship'. Yet that friendship is so strong, I believe only death will break it."

"So, MiLord Potter-Black, in my considered opinion, it is time to get your head out of your arse and make her your girlfriend. In fact, again in my considered opinion, what you _should_ do is propose to her, put a ring on her left hand and go looking for your Happy Ever After."

Harry said nothing. He just stared at her like a poleaxed steer.

" _Damn it," she thought. "When he starts thinking of Hermione in that way, doesn't he have_ _any other default action besides his_ _brain shutting down? For Morgana's sake, I've seen what she does with his hands when she thinks he's asleep!"_

Daphne decided to ignore his stare and lower her head to his shoulder again before Harry realized she was getting upset with him.

Meanwhile, Harry automatically started swaying again. His mind was so concentrated on his relationship, _("Being best friends was not a relationship? Wasn't it?")_ that it took him over two minutes to for his brain to notice that the girl smell in his nose was now mint and vanilla.

Somehow Greengrass and Hermione had switched on him and he had not noticed the change of woman in his arms.

" _Oh, Merlin. I am such a bad boyfriend! Wait, boyfriend?"_

That last thought jerked Harry to an abrupt stop. The rude stop made Hermione lift her head up to look at Harry to see what had happened.

Harry was looking at Hermione with his mouth open and his eyes were huge and horrified.

Suddenly Harry felt his mouth being pushed closed. Hermione snapped her fingers under his nose until Harry actually focused on her.

"These are the last two dances," she said. "And I am going to enjoy them. So, turn your mind off and start swaying Harry. Otherwise, you will find out I CAN use a wandless _"Stinging Hex."_

With that, she lowered her head back beside his neck.

Harry decided to follow Hermione's advice and spent the next two dances (?) just feeling and enjoying her slim body pressed close to him. When the inevitable problem began to arise, he tried putting some distance between their bodies. Hermione would have none of that and literally grabbed him just at his waist and yanked him back into close contact. The muffled growl that rumbled out from below his chin dissuaded him from trying that again.

The music faded away, followed by some platitudes by the leader. Harry did not care and was instead watching Hermione closely from the corner of his eye as he escorted her back to their table.

He rather vaguely noticed that table mates had left some time ago and they were among the last students still in the Great Hall. Again, he did not care.

Greengrass had rattled him severely.

" _Third date. Third date! What in Hades am I supposed to do now? Will she start considering_ _some of those Intent gifts if I don't Gryffindor up? If she says yes, that would be great. If she says no, how am I going to continue?"_

And that was the great awakening for Harry Potter.

He had crystallized all his thoughts. Without her, what was he? He was stupid is what he was. What Bellatrix had done had been awful, but she had kept fighting and he had kept fighting to get to her. When he thought she had died under Dolohov's curse, he had been immediately gutted. THAT is what life without Hermione Granger would be like.

" _She has turned down everyone else as a romantic interest. Maybe she will take me."_

While Harry had been buried in his thoughts, their steps had carried them up to the third floor. With increasing dread Harry's steps carried him closer to their suite. As Hermione gave the password to their guardian painting, Harry's sense of doom increased.

It was only a dozen steps from the door to the couch but in that distance, Harry managed to both break out in a rolling sweat, and become so light-headed he feared passing out.

They both turned towards each other. Neither was managing to look the other in the eye.

Hermione did not look up as she started to speak. "Harry, I had a wonde . . .,"

Harry stopped whatever she was going to say by closing the distance between them. As she looked up, he stared into her eyes, then he slowly brought his lips towards hers. He did not have to bend his neck as in her heels she matched his height.

He kept his eyes open as he moved closer and closer to her lips. Hermione's eyes were intently focusing on _his_ lips. He was intently focusing upon if she did not want this, what would be the sign?

Harry closed his eyes as he tilted his head for his lips to meet hers. He was hoping his snogging with Ginny two years ago was going to help as he slowly moved his lips over hers.

Her lips stayed unresponsive under his. As the seeming lack of enthusiasm registered, Harry started to pull away. His lessening the pressure must have acted as a prod to Hermione as suddenly she opened her mouth and forced her tongue past his lips into his teeth.

Harry was so surprised he reflexively opened his mouth to let her tongue clash with his.

Harry's brain may have been stunned but it still noted that his lovely Hermione's arms had both gone around his neck, then up into his hair and were holding him firmly against her mouth.

Their tongues dueled, advancing and retreating until the need for breath made continuing impossible.

Harry did not want to stop the kiss, but the sheer intensity that flowed between them as they had both poured their feelings into the other demanded a break.

Touching foreheads, Harry peered at Hermione's still closed eyes. His nerve endings were hypersensitive. He could feel her hands running through his hair, her boobs pressing into his chest as she panted, his manhood straining into her belly.

He was about to back-off a bit when she dropped one of her hands to his back and molded him to her. Without opening her eyes, she tilted her head and kissed him fervently as once again their tongues thrust and parried.

Harry's head was threatening to explode as sensations never felt before coursed through him. Ginny's kisses had been like strawberries and cream. Nice and they made him feel good.

Kissing Hermione was like slugging down a half-glass of Firewhiskey mixed with a Pepper-Up potion.

Like any intoxicating drink, the intensity of their sensations kept climbing. Hands were starting to roam. Harry started with running his hands up and down her back. Then lower as he rubbed and kneaded her arse. As his hands worked their way up again, they came around to her sides with his thumbs grazing the side of her breasts on their way to be buried in her hair.

Hermione was unconsciously mimicking his moves.

The haze of lust and hormones that was descending on Harry Potter was rudely checked when he buried his hands in Hermione's exquisitely coiffured hair. Several sharp pains lanced from his fingers as they rammed into some of the many sharp hairpins holding Hermione's hair up.

With a gasp of pain, Harry jerked his hands down, away from what was hurting him.

Unfortunately, his move yanked on Hermione's now tangled hair, causing her to lunge forward in an instinctive move to get away from whatever was causing pain on the back of her head.

Backpedaling Harry, further impelled by a lunging Hermione, stumbled into an armchair. As his knees caught the front edge of the chair, the falling entangled pair plowed into the back of the chair with enough force to flip it over.

"Augh! What's happe . . ."

Darkness.

 **A/N:**

 **Yeah, I know it's over two weeks. Three to four weeks is beginning to look like the new normal.**

 **I tried hard to keep the Ball's point of view from Harry only. Harder to write.**

 **This is by far the longest chapter yet. 7.5K words. I try to keep them shorter but this** **chapter seemed to have no logical breakpoint as written.** **So, this was 1.5 chapters written long, and the point is, took 1.5 the time to write.**

 **Interestingly, I am finding myself heavily reviewing notes and re-reading chapters in my effort to not drop early plot threads or something I planned to explain "Later".**

 **Time-consuming work. Already fumbled the Quidditch hoop placement near disaster, mass PTSD, Potter Manor Ball and . . . Sigh**

 **If you think I've missed picking up a former thread that interested you, drop me a note.**


	30. Chapter 30, The Day After

Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 30

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling and Others mentioned

in so many copyrights it is mind-boggling to us not in the know.

I know I get no compensation.

" **It's not school, so it's probably reality"**

The morning after.

Hermione slowly came awake. Her nose immediately reminded her where she was. In the never to be sufficiently cursed infirmary. Her nose also told her who she was lying half on top of in the infirmary bed.

Harry.

Harry who had snogged her with such passion that she started to physically moisten at the memory.

Her thoughts were cut short as his body stirred beneath her _._ He was trying to carefully edge out of the bed when Hermione spoke.

"Harry, where are you going?" she whispered harshly. "You know how Madame Pomfrey is when her patients get out of bed before she lets them."

"Hermione if I don't get to the loo in less than a minute, I am going to have a horrible, embarrassing accident," said Harry in a strained voice.

"Oh," Hermione's sleep-addled face lit with understanding. "Let me give you some help to the loo if things are that bad."

Apparently, Harry's abdomen was in such pain he let Hermione wrap her arm around him as they started staggering towards the loo.

"MISTER POTTER! What do you think you are doing?" came the loud, harsh voice of Madame Pomfrey from behind them.

"Madame Pomfrey. Bathroom, now. Right now," gasped Harry.

Seeing him nearly doubled over, the nurse relented and motioned him to go on.

Shedding Hermione at the door, Harry lurched to the commode and sat. After what seemed forever, Harry finished, washed up and left the loo.

He let Hermione help him back to his hospital bed. With a groan he lowered himself onto it. He no sooner hit the mattress than Madame Pomfrey was casting diagnostic spells around his head and holding his hands up while waving her wand over them.

"Well, I must say that your injuries last night were unusual even for a trouble attractor like yourself. Would you explain to me how you managed to sustain a concussion, break your nose and stab your hands with some sort of needle-like object multiple times?"

Harry looked back at her in confusion. "What?"

Madame Pomfrey sighed. "Professor Potter, what happened to you?"

"I . . don't . . remember. Hermione was telling me that she had a wonderful time at the Ball when I . I don't know what happened," he said as he blushed red and looked everywhere around the room before he looked beseechingly at Hermione.

" _BUGGER ME! HE PRACTICALLY HAD ME DROPPING MY DRESS ON THE FLOOR AND RAVISHING HIM ON THE COUCH, AND HE DOESN'T REMEMBER? I'M GOING TO_ _KILL_ _HIM!"_ she screamed in her head.

Hermione `Harumpf'd' and turned to Madame Pomfrey. Remembering her wand was still in her thigh holster under her housecoat, she pulled it out and whipped it around setting a privacy screen.

"I will assume that due to your Healer's Oath this will go no further?" she asked the mediwitch.

At the assent, she told a condensed, slightly modified, story of her and Harry barely starting to kiss when he stabbed himself with her hairpins, and as they tried to disengage, they fell over a chair. Harry hit the back of his head on the floor and then she had broken his nose when her forehead slammed into it.

She told of not being able to wake him up or stop his nose from bleeding over everything. She then sent a message patronus to Daphne Greengrass who helped her get Harry up to the infirmary.

Trying valiantly to hide her smirk, Madame Pomfrey explained that with a hard blow to the head that created a concussion, part of his memory might be lost. She could not say if his missing memories would return or not.

"Now Professor Potter, you are no longer in danger from the blow to your head. I want you to take this headache potion, and try not to get hit in the nose again for at least three days. Take that story-spinning Professor Granger away from here and get some food before the Express leaves for London."

With that pronouncement, she spun and briskly strode into her office and closed the door. Both teenagers missed the silencing charm the mediwitch threw on the door before she collapsed into her office chair howling with laughter.

"Forgetting kissing Hermione Granger? It could only happen to Harry Potter," capered through her mind as her sides began to hurt.

Meanwhile, "Come on, Harry. We have less than two hours to eat, finish packing and check on the rest of our House, and get to Hogsmeade."

"Kinsey," she called. With a pop, the diminutive house elf stood before them.

"Kinsey, would you please go to our quarters and bring us clothes for today? Mundane style will do."

With Kinsey's return in a minute, the two teens went off to get dressed, and the elf then popped their pajamas and robes back to their rooms.

"Umm, Hermione," Harry said softly as the two walked out of the infirmary headed for the Great Hall. "Did we really kiss last night?"

"Yes, Harry. We did," was her short-spoken answer.

Pause.

Hermione was desperately watching Harry from the corner of her eye. She did not want to tell him about them snogging each other senseless, but her story about how he was injured to Pomfrey had to have _some_ truth to it or the questions would have gotten more probing.

"What you told Madame Pomfrey, is that what happened?"

"Yes."

"Why did you ask Greengrass for help instead of Ron or Neville?"

"Because both of them were going to be busy with their dates. The girls told me what they had planned for their after Ball ` _activities'._ Trust me when I say that dragging Neville away from his girls, _again,"_ Harry winced, "Or Ron away from Mils, would have made everyone cranky."

Harry seemed to be deep in thought as they walked.

"I know how powerful and skilled you are, Hermione. Why did you think you needed help to throw a _Wingardium Leviosa_ on me and float me to the infirmary?"

Hermione remained silent as they kept walking. Finally, with a sigh, she stopped and turned towards Harry.

"I needed Daphne because I was in a panic. I could not get you to wake up, there was blood everywhere. It was so bad; I could hear it gurgling in your throat as you tried to breathe."

She looked down from his face. "I was so scared. I was still trying to get you awake and clean up the blood when Daphne and Tracey showed up. They helped m . ."

"Wait a minute,' Harry interrupted. "Both Daphne and Tracey saw me like that?' he finished with more than a hint of anger in his tone.

Hermione sighed and her shoulders slumped. "Harry, several other students saw us bring you up to the infirmary. I am sure that stories of your passing out drunk in the middle of the Ball dance floor are circulating through Hogwarts as we speak."

Harry looked shocked. "Did I really get drunk?" he asked in a horrified voice.

No, Harry" she sighed during her reply. "You did not have anything stronger than butterbeer at the dance or afterward."

"Then, wha . ?" he flapped his arms in frustration.

"I am merely telling you one of the stories the infamous Hogwarts rumor mill probably is saying about you."

Harry stood there silently contemplating what she had just told him. Hermione could read him like a book. She could see from his face Harry was bitterly cursing that all his hard effort to present a mature, responsible face to the wizarding world was probably crumbling around him.

She broke into his thoughts. "Rita Skeeter _probably_ will not attack us with the full force of her poison quill." She paused as Harry looked up at her again. "She does owe us for giving her juicy true news items upon occasion."

Slowly Harry's mien brightened. "It can never, ever, be as bad as fifth-year."

He straightened, placed Hemione's arm within his and promptly started for the Great Hall again.

Upon arrival, Hermione saw that the dreaded Eighth Year Networking (Girl Gossip sub-group) Group was still at the table in strength. The looks they gave Hermione ran from Daphne and Tracey's evil glee down to Lisa looking mildly perplexed. A.T., Oliver and Kevin were the guys still around and they ranged from hilarity (A.T.) to disgruntled. (Entwhistle)

The arriving pair sat on the right-side bench with Hermione making sure Harry was closest to the group. She was using him as a shield but that thin reed broke even before she finished placing breakfast on her dish.

To her, it was as bad as watching a pack of hyenas' surround the still-moving body of their prey, fraying more strands of her temper. Daphne swooped around to pin Hermione in. Tracey, Astoria and Padma seemed to apparate onto the bench across from them. Susan completed the trap by perching next to Harry.

"Well?" asked Daphne in a quiet voice.

"What?" replied Hermione in a cool, detached voice Only the slight trembling of her hand with the scrambled egg scoop placing egg on her plate betrayed her nerves.

Daphne leaned forward until she could see around her to Harry.

"Potter," came her slightly raised voice. "Go sit with the other males over there." The designated area as pointed out with a head gesture. "Now."

Hermione was shocked by his reply.

"No," he said mildly. 'I am staying with Hermione. She has done nothing wrong."

He continued, his voice hardening with every word. "Now, what makes all of you think you can interrogate her like she was a criminal?"

He leaned around Hermione and fixed Greengrass with a hard-green-eyed glare. After a couple of seconds, Daphne dropped her eyes. That glare then moved around the table to Tracey, then Astoria, Padma who all looked away also. Lastly, the glare landed at devastatingly short-range upon Susan, who bravely met Harry's glare, but teared up.

Hermione was surprised by Harry's action. She also saw that with Harry on a knife-edge from having been in the infirmary, things were not going to end well.

"Harry," she said softly placing her hand on his arm. "They are just dying to know if we kissed last night."

Harry stared at her in disbelief. "You're telling me they swooped down on us like a pack of rabid wolves because they want to know if we kissed last night?"

Harry then proceeded to again look around the circle. All the girls nodded in agreement.

"He was right," he said in a tone of disbelief. "Girls really are mental."

His voice hardened. "Hermione and I are going to finish our breakfast. If your curiosity cannot wait until the train, I suggest you try to catch her in the common room after we eat."

He made a little shooing motion with his hand. "Go away."

With stunned looks at each other, the group stood and left the hall. Harry reached over and snagged a Daily Prophet someone had left lying on the table. They had not come down in time for the owl to deliver its subscription copy to her.

"I was right. Our little school dance made the front page."

He moved the paper over towards Hermione so she could read the picture captions. Harry noticed she was a bit slow on the uptake. She must have been thinking about something.

She saw the moving photographs showing Harry dancing with her, Daphne, Lisa Turpin and Verbena Fencroft. Neville was shown gliding around with Luna and Ginny.

"The pictures are not too bad," Hermione stated. "Though I see they butchered Ginny's name as Geneva again."

Harry did not bother to read the oh-so-gushy-fluffy captions to the pictures. Besides he was lost in contemplating how beautiful Hermione looked. He could see why he had kissed her afterwards.

Hermione did read the captions, but being distracted by her ogling of Harry in the pictures with her, she missed reading an off-hand comment about Neville that in a few days would cause another problem for her Harry.

After stopping by the kitchen, they checked back at the Eighth's dormitory. Harry felt grumpily gratified that no one bothered them about kissing. Remembering how many years he had spent Christmas at the castle, Harry decided to invite everyone who was not going home for the holidays to a gathering at Potter Manor on New Year's Day.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The trip to London was eventful even without Malfoy to blather stupidly at Harry and Hermione.

The start was innocuous enough. The pair found an open compartment and Hermione placed some weak Do-Not-Notice charms on the doorway and charmed the shades to stay closed.

"I amplified my magical signature on the door. Any of our classmates should be able to see it and find us," she explained. "The fortune-hunting riff-raff do not take classes with us."

She then proceeded to start casting in the compartment. First, an expansion charm that added at almost fifty percent to the width and length of the compartment. With a mixture of Transfiguration and Conjuration, the bench seats lengthened to fit the new space and several small matching armchairs and small tables were added. (1)

She was wearing a small, satisfied smirk when she sat down again. Harry was profuse with his praise for her work. She smiled at his praise but admitted that fighting the charms and enchantments already in place had tired her.

Harry saw to putting their robes away in their trunks before starting to talk about a safe topic such as the classes they were teaching.

Five minutes later, Harry was starting to get silent at the wrong times and fidgety. She knew what was coming.

"Um, Hermione," he started. "W-w-w-when we kissed last night, was it alri . ."

She interrupted him with a finger on his lips. "Harry, do you want me to tell you now when you know the wolves are hunting us as we speak? You do realize that stories gain embellishments the more they are told?" She spoke the last with a lifted eyebrow and a growing smirk.

Because of what had happened, he could see she was going to tease him within an inch of killing him with embarrassment.

Hermione's Tale

Hermione could not read Harry's thoughts but he was close to what was being plotted in her mind. He had, inadvertently she would admit, turned the most romantic occurrence of her life into a disaster. She was feeling more than a tad resentful, and payback was a bitch.

And frustration had her feeling like a bitch with a capital B at the moment.

Maybe Hermione had picked up some Divination skill during her school days. The same pack of females, minus Astoria Greengrass all walked through the door five minutes later. Neville, Ginny and Luna walked in a few minutes later. Through the newcomer talk, Hermione learned not to expect Ron to be by anytime soon. He was somewhere with Millicent getting "closer acquainted".

Lord Harry the Oblivious seemed surprised to find that Ron was serious about Mils the Slimy Slytherin, and had been meandering closer to her for a month. Hermione figured that he was also going to be bewildered by the seriousness of the Neville, Ginny and Luna trio. And if the gingerly way Neville's girlfriends were moving and carefully sitting, it appeared as if they had been _very_ serious last night.

From talking with the two of them over the last month, Hermione knew Luna wanted to keep the Lovegood name `alive' in wizarding Britannia. Therefore, she would have to become a Consort Wife to Neville to keep the Lovegood name for her children. Ginny would become his First Wife, Ginevra Longbottom. What he had planned for House Blythe she did not know.

After everyone oooh-ed and ahhh-ed over Hermione's changes, Daphne asked Hermione if she could do some decorating in the compartment.

Hermione looked at her for a few seconds before telling her to go right ahead.

Motioning everyone to the side, Daphne transfigured the linoleum floor into a rig with the Hogwarts Coat of Arms. She then reupholstered the benches with a chintz, flowery fabric and made them more comfortable. (2)

She did nothing with the armchairs as she had experienced how comfortable a Granger transfigured chair could be. Next, she made the lighting sconces a bit more decorative and the lights themselves brighter.

After another round of complements to the two, everyone settled in to chat and talk about what they had planned for Yule or Christmas. They all had invitations to the Ministry New Years Eve Ball. Attendance was mandatory for Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville as they would be receiving their Order of Merlin awards.

Harry surprised most everybody by stating he and Hermione would celebrate both holidays. As he explained, "I want to learn some old wizard customs, Hermione was raised Mundane-born and I was Mundane-raised."

It was about four hours into the trip when Harry brought out his surprise. The picnic basket he had picked up in the kitchen as they left was brought out, enlarged and everyone in the compartment had a filling lunch. Hungry teenagers made short work of meat pies, chicken, fish and chips and a collection of sandwiches. All kept hot with warming charms. Butterbeers and gilly water completed what everyone proclaimed had been a capital idea.

With all well-fed, the young women started exchanging non-too subtle looks with each other. Daphne was seated on a bench seat along with Harry and Hermione. Tracey was across from them sitting with Neville, Ginny and Luna. Padma and Susan were seated in a couple of the armchairs.

Harry and Neville did not notice, but Hermione did. Like watching black storm clouds build on the horizon, she knew the inquisition was coming.

Hermione just snuggled deeper into Harry's side, hoping against hope it would all go away.

The opening cast came as expected from Daphne. "So, Granger. Did you manage to actually kiss Potter before we had to cart him away to Madame Pomfrey?"

Despite the noise of the train rolling on steel rails, the compartment became quiet enough to hear a feather drop. No one really thought Hermione would hex Daphne into little bits, but . . maybe?

Hermione made the instant decision to launch a counter-attack. "Is it really that important to grill us to find out, Miss Greengrass? Is the whole school hanging on the possible meshing of our lips?"

"Actually, yes," Daphne replied. "It is of vast importance to someone or some one's fiscal health."

There was a look of confusion in Hermione's eyes. "How is a possible kiss going to keep someone from becoming ill?"

Everyone except Hermione and Harry turned and looked at Susan Bones. The pretty dark blonde sighed in resignation and reached into her robes and pulled out a brown leather-covered notebook.

She stared at the book as though it would tell her its secrets. "Before they left Hogwarts, the Weasley twins left me with the books on all their betting pools. All of the pools have closed and the winners have collected their money with two exceptions."

She stopped talking and managed to look both of her friends in the eye. Waving the notebook slightly, she continued, "This book is the pool of bets upon when Harry Potter and Hermione Granger have their first real kiss, with a bonus if he asks her to be his girlfriend at the same time. And before you ask, they charmed the book so I can only read it if the bet is to be paid. I have no idea who might win the galleons."

Susan licked her suddenly dry lips as Hermione Granger in full pissed-off, gonna hex someone into tiny pieces mode, slowly straightened up from lounging against Harry.

"Do you mean to tell me that part of the school has been betting on when Harry and I would kiss?" she bit off.

"More like three-quarters of the students plus most of the staff over the last six years," interjected Daphne with a look of angelic innocence on her face.

"Arrrghh," shrieked Hermione jerking herself to her feet. "When I get my wand on George and Fred, I'm going to cur . . ." Her face suddenly crumpled at what she had just said.

"Oh, bugger," whooshed out of her as she collapsed back onto the bench. And everyone was again reminded how the smallest thing could bring the bad memories to the fore again.

Harry was quick to hug her into a tight cuddle as Hermione fought not to break down.

It was Tracey who then got everyone's attention when she asked, "So, Hermione. Was it a short little peck, or a long kiss? Did you get to a full-blown snog? Did you get any tongue?" When she stopped, she had the biggest, goofiest grin on her face.

Her sally was greeted with a chorus of "Eewws, Tracey's, and gag me's.

Harry and Hermione stared at her in shock, trying to process what had just bubbled out of Tracey's mouth. This was not the first time either had heard such talk, but it had always been a bunch of blokes up in the dorm room, or a quiet group of witches having a hen party.

"Why is everybody giving me the stink eye?" Tracey complained. "I only asked to make sure the criterion to win the bet was met. Besides, nobody saw them do it."

Hermione started raising up again. Her magic was starting to pulse against her skin. Her hair was slowly moving and becoming wilder and bushier.

Tracey looked nervous. It seemed she had just realized that her mouth might have just written a Gringotts bank draft she could not back up.

Suddenly Harry pulled her back down and wrapping himself around her, calming her a bit.

Then he whispered in her ear with a grin in his voice, "Since I do not remember the kiss either, would you demonstrate it again for me?"

She turned and looked at him, only inches away, his soft breath flowing against her. Inspiration struck. _"They want confirmation? A show? I'll give them a sodding show!"_

"Why yes, Harry," she murmured quietly. "Perhaps we should.

With that, she stood, dragging Harry to his feet with her. Pulling her wand from her sleeve, she looked Harry deeply in his eyes.

"Stand still, Harry," she said gesturing with her wand.

Everyone watched as with a few wand movements, Harry was standing in a close facsimile of the robes he had worn at the Ball.

"Would you return the favor?" Hermione said, stowing her wand and raising her arms out to her sides.

Without a word, Harry's wand appeared in his hand and after he closed his eyes for a moment, he started casting.

First, the almost black dress with its bronze chain belt appeared, then the earrings and wrist cuff. Last were the solid heel sandals with the thongs running up her right leg. He did nothing with her hair. She smiled at that, knowing that despite her constant warfare with her hair, he preferred her locks untamed.

The murmurings from the others was topped by Daphne's raised voice saying that she would not have believed a wizard could remember a girl's outfit from memory.

He finally took his eyes off Hermione and looked at Daphne. "Thank you, Greengrass. Problem is, I am a young, hormonal male teenager."

He turned back to Hermione and moved his wand again. She felt the neckline of her dress suddenly drop. She jerked her head down to see an inch of cleavage appear as her bra squeezed her breasts together. Next a black chain pendant with a black crystal stone the size of a small egg appeared at the top of said cleavage.

Before she could start railing at him, she `Eeepp-ed' and rose on her toes as she felt her knickers suddenly change. Then her right leg became very drafty as the side slit in her dress climbed a foot up to her hip.

A quick glance showed black sandal lacings up her whole leg, no knickers showing. _"Where the hell had Harry learned about French-cut knickers?"_

Just before she laid into him, Harry asked her if she had the lipstick from last night with her.

"Huh?"

"If we are going to do this properly, we need last night's lipstick," Harry returned in a reasonable tone.

Feeling dazed, Hermione turned and reached for her little beaded clutch. She opened it and looked at Harry.

Therefore, she missed that everyone except Luna was going spare at the new look, and amount of skin, Hermione's turn had exposed.

" _Accio,_ lipstick," and he snatched the flying golden tube out of the air and presented it to Hermione who uncapped it, and without a mirror applied it flawlessly to her lips.

She refocused on Harry who was drinking her in as his eyes journeyed over her from toe to head.

" _So, he wants to play it that way, huh?"_ she thought. _"Very well."_

Hermione placed her right hand on her hip and cocked it outwards. The dress immediately cascaded off her leg exposing its whole length, drawing Harry's eyes irresistibly to the long length of her leg.

"Do you like, Harry?" she throatily purred and watched with hidden glee as his eyes glazed over.

She kept the hand on her hip as she took three short steps up to him and leaned in to place her lips to his ear.

"Do you really, _really_ like me, Harry?" she whispered. "If you do, you just have to kiss me."

She could feel Harry start to wrap his arms around her and slowly tighten her in closer. She was mashed up against his chest and could feel his growing arousal. She had not moved her head from his ear when an imp made her stick out her tongue and give it a little lick.

She felt Harry literally shiver. Then she did it again just as he drew his head back so he could look her in the eyes. The heavy-lidded look of pure desire in those piercing green orbs had her knees weakening even before his lips descended on to hers.

The audience faded away. Just as before, the kiss started slow and sweet, his lips slowly, lightly, moving over hers. Then as her blood heated, she wanted more. The kiss became firmer, she demanded entrance, spearing her tongue to force his lips open so the sweet duel she was deprived of last night could recommence.

Time vanished as she again poured every erg of feeling for Harry into her kisses. She mewled into his mouth as his hands roamed her back and sides.

It took an endless, yet too short, time before she realized Harry was pulling back, turning the kisses into short pecks. She moaned as she clung closer, trying to get her kisses back.

Finally, she felt Harry's hands on her shoulders as he moved away enough to place his forehead against hers, leaving them both panting for breath. They stood there for what seemed endless minutes.

"Wow. I wish that was me," came someone's voice, aching with longing

Whoever spoke that jerked Hermione out of her reverie. As the realization of what she had just done in public flooded her, she buried her head with a groan in Harry's neck.

Embarrassment filled her as Harry steered her back to their seat. Harry sat her down so gently she did not have to move from where her flaming face was buried.

It was Tracey who cleared her throat, bringing everyone's attention to her.

"I, uh, must say, that looked practiced. Susan, I believe Hermione and Harry did kiss last night and someone is going to make a small fortune."

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The transfigurations had been reversed on their clothes so that when Harry and Hermione stepped off the Express and onto Platform 9 ¾, they were again in boots, jeans, shirts and warm jumpers.

They headed for the back of the platform intending to use the floo's there to head for Potter Manor. Partway there, they were intercepted by Narcissa and Andromeda

Walking swiftly up to the duo, Narcissa gave a hurried abbreviated curtsey.

"Lord Potter-Black, we need to talk. We have a problem."

 **A/N:**

 **Not my original. I cannot remember where I read (I think Sirius cast) the expansion**

 **Charms use on an Express compartment.**

 **Again, not an original idea. I like to give credit where possible. I may not know who, but they were smarter than I am.**


	31. Chapter 31, How 'bout another kiss?

Granger, we need to talk

CHAPTER 31

Same old tired disclaimers. JK Rowling and Other own all recognizable characters.

I make no money off this, and as far as I know, no fame either.

Bummer.

"Why did no one bring this up earlier?"

 _On Platform 9 ¾:_

" _Lord Potter-Black, we need to talk. There is a problem."_

Harry looked at the two Black Sisters.

"The Manor?" he questioned.

They both nodded and two minutes later, the four of them were having soot removed from their clothes by Tilitsy in the Potter Manor floo room.

Without preamble, Harry stalked into his Study and sat behind his desk. The three women arranged themselves in the armchair arc across the front of the desk just as Tilitsy brought tea.

As soon as the amenities were complete, Harry uncharacteristically brusquely spoke. "What is the problem?"

Andromeda and Narcissa looked at each other and silently communicated. They then turned back to Harry.

Andromeda was the one who adopted lecture mode and began. "Today's story about the Ball at Hogwarts mentioned that Lord Neville Longbottom was in attendance with two witches, both of whom are purported to be his girlfriend's, with rampant speculation that he wanted them for his wives," stated Andromeda. "Both, I might add are PureBlood witches, and if the Lovegood Heiress wants to keep her Family name active, she would be ideal for a Continuation Contract marriage."

Here she paused.

"Keep going," Harry commanded.

"After seeing the pictures of you at the Ball, several Wizengamot members have spent the day talking with others, and like a sudden blizzard, everyone is now talking about how you attended with someone not only Mug . . Mundane Born, but, someone not your girlfriend or your betrothed.

She paused, gathering herself again. "Today, the Daily Prophet has essentially shown you to be fair game, and wide open to be pursued by every woman in Britannia."

She actually gave a small smirk. "I understand your mail checking room at Gringotts has had a ten-fold increase in marriage contract offers today. And the indignity of finding lacey knickers enclosed in many letters has upset the goblins greatly."

The smirk grew. After all, goblins were not the only species that enjoyed `sticking it to' someone else.

Narcissa broke in, "None the less, the bigger problem is that some meddling fool who probably thinks he is the smartest man in the Wizengamot is talking about reviving the Ancient and Noble House Accommodation Act of 1354."

At her Lord's obviously puzzled look, Narcissa explained. "Due to the Black Death Plague that killed almost fifty percent of the wizarding population in 1348 to 1350, many Houses lost all their possible male heirs. Some lineages passed to appropriate cadet lines but others narrowed down to one person. When the waves of death had passed and inheritors were sorted out, a several of the surviving Lords had three or more Lordships to their name. Several greedy Lords tried to amass the Wizengamot votes of all the Houses that had fallen to them and consolidate all those votes under themselves and their Primary House. Their goal was to dominate the Wizengamot."

She continued on, "They were narrowly defeated, but something still needed to be done if several proud Houses and lineages were to be saved."

Hermione stirred to her side enough to draw Narcissa's attention.

With a sigh she looked at Hermione as she kept speaking. "You are on the wrong side of the culture divide to truly understand how bone deep in our psyche Old Family's preservation of a House runs. I have tried this year to give you an awareness of this driving force within our culture, but you will never really feel it. Understand it, perhaps. Feel it in your bones? I doubt it."

"To continue, the Act was written to require a Head of House to have a wife for every House he was Head of, and the House Rights of Progeniture, would govern how the children of each marriage would inherit. In short, the Lord became a guardian for the Heirs to the Houses he had inherited. "

Hermione stirred again.

Throwing a quick glance at the girl, Narcissa took a deep breath before continuing. "And the union had to produce an Heir or Heiress within five years or the couple would be divorced and the Head would have to remarry."

It was quiet in the study. The only sound was the ticking from the large mantle clock over the fireplace.

Strangely, or perhaps not strangely, both Harry and Hermione were thinking the same thing. _"Where was all this reverence for House preservation when Tommy and the supposed reverential PureBlood Death Nibblers were killing off whole family's? What was that number? Thirty-some Houses destroyed in the two wars? And that was before we won."_

All those hours of study under Narcissa through the summer and fall showed as Harry actually had a clue as to what Narcissa was talking about. His chair spun slightly from side to side as he pondered what he had been told.

He almost smiled when his gaze passed over Hermione and he realized she was quivering so hard she looked about to combust.

Harry stilled and sat even more upright and doing his best to look commanding.

"Very well. Madam Tonks and Madam Black, unless you have something to add, you may as well return to Grimmauld Place, or the 'Mot, and have your sources keep their ears open. We have a grace day tomorrow before the Yule Wizengamot meeting on Monday. If some news is urgent, we can meet tomorrow. If not, we will plan on gathering early Monday at the Ministry and make plans then."

"Oh, and as a last thought, why has my inheriting two very powerful Lordships not triggered this sentiment before?"

Both sisters' eyes widen a bit. They were impressed with how their Lord had handled the situation. No panic, no ranting or raving. He did not even seem upset, and had brought up a point neither had considered.

It was Narcissa who answered his last question. "In one of the very few smart moves by the Wizengamot ever, they set the law to expire twenty years after passage unless extended by a two-thirds vote of the Wizengamot. You are the first double Lordship holder in almost three hundred years. And the Lord affected had two Heirs. He simply proved his second son was qualified by blood to head the second House."

"No one except Heads attempting to marry off a daughter or granddaughter off to you, or your political enemies were concerned about your Lordships. The worst that could have happened was one of your Lordships would have had to have a female Heiress if your wife did not produce enough sons."

Harry caught the almost-too-quick-to-be-seen flicker of her eyes towards Hermione.

" _If only you knew," Harry thought._

"You believe the PureBloood's of today are overly prideful. Back then they were complete autocrats. Their word was law, and being cast out of a family, usually crippled and destitute, was the least punishment for rebelliousness. Therefore, they were very happy to see the law expire. After all, it was a check upon their absolute power."

Asking Hermione to be still with a small hand gesture, Harry escorted his guests to the floo and watched as they departed before returning to Hermione.

"Food first, Hermione," he said. "Research needs fuel or you will not be at your best."

"Tilitsy. Dinner for two at the kitchen table please," Harry spoke into thin air as he escorted the somewhat calmer Hermione towards the kitchen.

When the two arrived at the kitchen, they were greeted with a laden table of pasta dishes. Harry had cooked an occasional pasta dish for the Dursley's, but the spaghetti and sauce was the only food he recognized.

"Ooh," exclaimed Hermione. "Italian food. Thank you, Tilitsy. These are my favorites. Where did you learn to cook Italian food?"

"Lady Lily liked Italian so's I learned," replied Tilitsy.

Harry handed Hermione into her chair and pushed her up to the table before seating himself.

Eyeing the food, Harry gave a wry chuckle. As Hermione stopped in the midst of dishing what looked like a tomato-y covered chicken breast with melted cheese on to her plate and looked at him. He waved her off and asked her what food was on the table.

" _Even MY elf is pushing us together for all she is worth," he thought._

The meal passed in pleasant company. Hermione's fervor in explaining what the dishes were was amusing to Harry. In spite of all the time they had spent together, her passion for French and Italian cuisine had not discussed in detail before. His praise of the taste and texture of the Chicken Parmesan, the Spinach and Cheese Stuffed Manicotti and the Spaghetti with Meat Sauce had her humming with happiness, and Tilitsy bouncing with joy.

Hermione had known for years Harry had not been given normal experiences that she and others took for granted, so when she found something he liked, she relished the feeling of accomplishment.

Dinner was soon over and Harry was noticing that Hermione was starting to look uncomfortable. He figured he knew the cause. During his kissing of her on the train, his memory of their kissing each other senseless after the Ball had returned.

So now he had kissed, or been kissed twice, by Hermione Jean Granger. And he had thoroughly enjoyed each time. However, Snuggle Witch time with her during the summer had led him to the insight that just as he had a deep-seated fear of intimacy abused into him, and feared losing everyone he had ever loved ground into him over seven years at Hogwarts, she had been scarred by the schoolyard taunts about her appearance and her intelligence.

The casual cruelty of children upon the "beaver-toothed, brillo haired, too-smart-for-her-own-good bookworm" had burrowed deep into her psyche over the years. Especially her during young, formative years when the bad things that happen can outweigh the good in a child's mind. Wanting to be accepted is the most common feeling of the human race.

One of them was going to have to break through the barriers each had surrounded themselves with. His talks with his Snuggle Witches during the last six months meant his barriers had weakened, but after the second kiss on the Express, Harry had decided that Hermione would not kiss him that way if she did not love him.

He had poured all his feelings and soul into both kisses, and felt that she had returned the same.

Deciding almost instinctively on a course of action, Harry cleared his throat causing Hermione to jump in her seat. Snogging her first, or letting her do research first, that was the question.

Research was the answer. That was in Hermione's comfort zone, and probably right now, snogging, though pleasant fun, was not. What she was thinking was so obvious it was almost visible on her face. "I kissed Harry! And he kissed me back! Does that mean he loves me? Or what?"

Since he was feeling the same questions about their kiss, he figured those questions were starting to upset her. An unsettled Hermione because she did not know the answers, was a bad companion Hermione. Some good, old fashioned research in the Potter Library would probably do her a world of good.

"Hermione, love, why don't you go to the library and look up what Aunt Andi and Cissy were talking about?"

Hermione eagerly nodded her head and started to stride out of the kitchen.

"Hermione?" Harry uttered. "I will come for you after three hours. I do not want to see you wearing yourself out over this. We have several competent friends who will help us with possible problems."

She paused in her flight, nodded at Harry and briskly left, trying her hardest not to look like she was fleeing.

Harry chuckled silently to himself and left for his study. The Sister's had left some routine Wizengamot parchment work that he had to pay attention to. Besides, he was going to have to re-compose himself as the strain of his acting suave and in control, practically had him shaking in reaction.

Hermione

" _Oh my God, oh Merlin, oh Morgana! I thought we would have some private time to talk about what happened on the train! What do I do if Harry needs two wives? What if they need to be PureBlood? What if . . ."_

Thoughts of possible disaster followed Hermione into the library where she went up to the pedestal. There was a large but thin, Index of Library Contents book, a quill and an inkpot. Opening the book, she dipped the quill into the provided Ever Full inkpot and wrote on the page that she wanted any "Books on Wizard Marriages" and "Books on the Ancient and Noble House Accommodation Act of 1354".

After laying down the quill and capping the inkpot, Hermione started walking up and down the rows of books. Occasionally, a book would glow. A red glow meant the book was a poor fit of the Index request, but had some information. Yellow was mediocre results, and blue to purple meant the book was chock full of the information requested.

With Harry's time limit hanging over her, she gathered only four books. She gathered one purple book, two blue books and a one green glowing book in her arms as she headed for her favorite reading spot by the fireplace. One of these days she would have to ask Harry why the reading lighting seemed so particularly easy on her eyes at this spot.

If an independent observer had found Hermione two and a half hours later, surrounded by piles of open books, and dozens of parchment pieces covered with notations, they could not have been faulted for thinking Hermione was deep into her quest for knowledge. What they would not have known, was she had given up trying to concentrate on her search ten minutes ago. And that inability to work was one of the factors fueling her current feeling of frustration.

She had been so close last night. If the stress over Harry getting injured had nor kept her in the infirmary, she would have spent the night screaming into her pillow at how unfair it all was.

Harry and her had crossed that line they had approached but never crossed before. She knew Harry had backed away from having any romantic feelings for her because he had believed that Ron had wanted her and had consciously backed away from even thinking about her in any way except as a friend.

Well, Ron and her had actually tried, but in spite of thinking there should be, there was no spark. No feeling that their attempting to create passion brought them closer together.

Deep down, in her bones, Hermione knew part of the problem had been that Harry was her true friend. Ron was the bloke she was friendly with because he was a friend of Harry's.

So, last night had been the culmination of months of subtlety, blatancy, chance, skillful plotting, sex kitten acting and not changing how she interacted with Harry.

In other words, she had plotted the campaign, watched it collapse in wreckage a few times, yet with some help from Daphne, resurrected it a few times. However, indications were she was finally on the doorstep of success.

So, why was she sitting here, unable to perform any work, her mind skittering off on unimportant tangents. Her fears that Harry would reject her in the next few minutes running rampant. And the topic her mind kept returning to, before running away from it with its tail between its legs, was that Harry and her were alone in the Manor.

She was alternately flushing and paling as her mind insisted upon throwing up sexy scenarios of what could happen later.

They had been alone before. They had slept in the same bed before. However, they had not kissed, then snogged before. And she had not felt his blatant arousal pressed against her belly before.

In the churning cauldron of her mind, she was actually proud that she had caused that reaction. And right on the tail of that thought was the question of how far down the road of sex did she want to go now?

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Harry was standing about fifteen feet in back of Hermione. He really could not see much except the book and parchment covered table and her hair. Due to her lack of reading or note taking he was willing to bet she was worrying her lower lip so hard it should be raw.

Unable to resist, he loudly cleared his throat, which as intended, had Hermione levitating out of her chair and spinning to face him.

Hiding his smirk, he walked up to her.

"Your time is up. We both had a rough time last night and no nap on the train. As important as your work is, it will wait until tomorrow."

He waited while she tidied her parchment and wand swish sent the books back to their shelves. As she nervously finished, he gently took her hand.

"While you were researching, a letter arrived inviting us to a Yule Celebration at the Greengrass' house. As much as I would like to go, I need to ask if you want to go, and then ask The Sisters if it will be a good or bad idea politically. So, want to go with me and prance around naked in the snow?"

The effect was as he had hoped. She stood frozen with her jaw agape and her eyes wide. Unable to keep a straight face after a few seconds, he started laughing while waving his forefinger at her. "Gotcha!"

Jaws snapping shut and eyes narrowing to slits, Hermione stepped forward and swung to smack him on the arm. Harry instinctively flinched. He tried to stop himself, but the reflex was too ingrained.

Hermione's hand immediately stopped before she struck him. Tears started welling in her eyes and she turned away from him, shoulders hunching. (1)

Harry strode forward and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Sh-sh-sh-sh. Don't cry, love. It's alright. How many times in the school have we seen a girl smack a boy's arm for being a prat or for flirting with him? It could be either. What you did was normal behavior and I am the one who is damaged."

He stood loosely holding her against him, inhaling the scent of her hair.

"Come," he said. With him holding her hand they headed up the main stairs to the third-floor family area.

Stopping in the hallway between their rooms, Harry turned to Hermione and hugged her to him. "It has been a long day after a bad night. All I want to do is go to sleep. But I would like to wake up with you in my arms. P...Please?"

Harry shut up at that point. His nerve had deserted him and he would become an embarrassed stuttering mess if he tried to say more.

Hermione leaned back in his arms and peered into his eyes. She must have seen something she wanted in there as she nodded and said, "Of course Harry. Give me ten minutes to get ready."

They separated, each going through their own room's doorway.

After washing up, brushing his teeth and changing into flannel pajama pants and t-shirt, Harry scooted into bed the middle of the large bed. Propping himself to sit against the headboard, he waited for HER. The one during the middle of their snog on the train, that he had decided he wanted to snog for the rest of his life.

Hermione hesitantly walked into Harry's room and Harry's eyes grew large. He could only see two clothing items. A pair of kitten heeled slippers to protect against the cold stone floors, and his old third-year practice Quidditch shirt. Occasionally he had vaguely wondered what had happened to it.

Colored red and gold with long sleeves, he knew without looking it had POTTER and a large numeral 7 on the back. The best part from his point of view was that it only fell to mid-thigh, giving him a long look at what he considered her best feature. Her long, beautifully shaped legs.

And that the shirt was form-fitting across her chest was a wonderful feature also.

Wordlessly he flipped back the covers on his left side in clear invitation for her to join him there. She kicked off her slippers at the side of the bed, put her wand on the side table, and slid in next to Harry

Not sure what to do, she laid on her side looking at him wide-eyed. After returning her gaze, Harry gently placed his hand on her cheek and leaning in slowly, gave her a gentle kiss, enjoying her soft lops and minty taste.

Finishing the kiss, he rolled onto his right side and skootched back until he was against her. Reaching back, he brought her arm over him and clasped it to his chest.

In spite of the excitement of the day and the feelings each was having trouble expressing for the other, both teens were asleep in five minutes.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

The grey light seeping around the heavy curtains of his bedroom was the first thing Harry was aware of. Second was the warm feeling of someone very soft sprawled along his left side. Mass of bushy brown hair on his chest, check. Soft breast pressed into his ribcage, check. Long, smooth leg wrapped around his left leg, check. All was as it should be.

And for a moment Harry reveled in the thought that this was how he wanted to wake up for the rest of his life.

" _And where in Hades did the thought that Daphne was missing from my right side come from?"_

His change in breathing rhythm must have worked its way into Hermione's brain. She started wakening by nuzzling his chest and slowly stretching and rubbing against him. He could tell the exact moment she realized where she was and what she was doing. She froze prompting a grumbling chuckle from Harry.

"Morning sleepy one," he spoke very quietly.

"Good morning, Harry," she returned.

Hermione suddenly rolled over and snatched her wand off the bedside table. She quickly applied a breath freshening charm to herself then Harry before tucking her wand under her pillow.

"There," she said quietly. Harry knew what was expected of him next.

Slowly he leaned in to her and pressed a firm boyfriend-girlfriend kiss on her willing lips. The kiss was progressing nicely when Harry heard and felt the time alarm from his wand. He tried to ignore it, but its distraction finally forced him to abandon the kiss.

"Come on, laz-a-bed," he groaned. "We have business to take care of."

Hermione looked at him in some confusion.

"We have things to do this morning that should not be postponed. First, we need to talk to Narcissa or Andi about the Greengrass invitation. Then we need to know if I should start panicking about this marriage thing. Do I have to start twisting arms to kill this Act talk? Or do we have enough political pull to just bury it quietly?"

"And over breakfast, you can tell me what you found in the library." He finished off the last with exaggerated eyebrow lifting and lopsided smile."

Harry rolled himself over Hermione without landing on her. He started for his bathroom, but after a few steps he turned and said, "Love your night shirt. Is it comfy?" And with a smirk he entered the bathroom and closed the door.

The morning passed quickly. Andromeda answered Harry's floo call and told him that accepting the Greengrass invitation to their Yule celebration would be a good idea. So, Harry sat and wrote a formal reply that Hermione checked over, and floo delivered it to the Greenfields, the Greengrass manor house, handing the letter to an elf through the floo fire.

After breakfast, Hermione retreated back to the library. Harry retreated, in a dignified manner of course, to his study. By lunch, Harry had worked up enough nerve.

Retrieving her from the library, he walked her back to the kitchen. There, over a rich, creamy seafood chowder and crusty fresh bread, Harry nervously cleared his throat. At the quizzical look from Hermione across the table, Harry started his stumbling request.

"I've been told that after three dates, a girl wants to ahh . . know where she stands with a bloke. That is when it is time to drop back to just being friendly or to ask for the girl to be my . . er, his ah, girlfriend."

He could see that Hermione had become very still, so he rushed on.

"Um, Hermione, will you consider being my girlfriend?"

With seeming total control, Hermione stood and walked around the table to stand next to a rising Harry.

From a distance of six inches, she stared at him and quietly said, "Why yes Harry, I will be your girlfriend."

Then she closed the distance, wrapped her arms around his head and proceeded to kiss his brain into meltdown.

Harry was attempting to find out if pressing hard against your girlfriend _(GIRLFRIEND! SHE SAID YES! SHE'S MY GIRLFRIEND!)_ could just squeeze the trapped clothes out of the way. He actually did not care if the idea would work, he just wanted to try.

Some unknowable time later, after they had run out of air several times, and discovered the joys of neck and ear kissing and nibbling, he had reached the point of having wandered and rubbed his hands over all her accessible clothed areas. He was now trying to create some space between them so wanting-to-roam hands would have some virgin territory to explore.

It took a while before roar of the floo from across the great entryway garnered his attention. He could hear voices, but not the words. He could also sense that Tilitsy wanted to talk to him.

"Yes, Tilitsy?" he said resting his forehead against Hermione's, but kept his eyes open, gazing into one of his favorite things, Hermione's lovely dark-gold-flecked chocolate brown eyes.

"Master Harry, there is a Miss Daphne Greengrass in the floo. She wishes to see you. She says it is urgent."

Harry sighed and closed his eyes while cursing fate. All he wanted to do was spend time snogging Hermione and every Merlin bedamned time he tried, some wanker, _Wait, Daphne's not a wanker, she's a , a . . ahhh, sod it!_

With a groan of frustration, he told Tilitsy to allow Miss Greengrass access and to show her to the visitor parlour.

The `I've been snogged 'til I can't see straight' haze suddenly cleared from Hermione's eyes.

"Daphne's here?" she inquired. "What does she want?"

"I do not know, Love. Let's go find out."

Holding hands, the pair headed across the entryway to the parlour where they found Daphne.

Harry found it interesting that when she stood up, she was wearing what amounted to almost their school uniform. White shirt, heavy dark green V-neck jumper with white trim at the neck and wrists, medium grey tartan patterned wool skirt with heavy dark grey patterned tights. Her blonde hair was gathered in a loose bun.

"Lord Potter-Black, I thank you for your willingness to allow me into your home," she said. The interesting thing that both Harry and Hermione picked up on was she was trying to be in full Ice Queen mode, but the cracks in the façade were noticeable.

Harry merely gestured for her to return to her chair and as soon as everyone was seated, tea appeared and the familiarity of performing the rituals gave Harry and Hermione emotions a chance to prepare for whatever Daphne wanted.

One hard look at Hermione's face had Daphne struggling to suppress a smirk. The blush evident on her cheeks and the swollen lips told tales of their own.

Daphne tossed the conversational quaffle in the air.

"Since I know you were raised Mundane, I volunteered to visit and inform you that you should dress for being outdoors tomorrow night. There will be a large bonfire to celebrate the lengthening of the coming days, the return of light to the world. If you could bring a sacrifice of wine, bread and some greenery it will bring you closer to the experience that the rituals are meant for."

Harry nodded at her. "I shall ask our gardener if we have something proper available."

Taking a steadying breath, she straightened. "I also came to inform you, or find out if you know about, a plot that is forming within the Wizengamot against you and Lord Longbottom. It involves . . "

"YOU!" The scream exploded from Hermione. As Harry turned in shock, the teacup she had been holding in her hand crashed into flinders on the floor. As she pushed herself off her chair, her wand appeared in her hand.

"Heiress Greengrass," she spoke bitingly. "I now see this has been your endgame since the beginning. Morgana, I feel incredibly stupid for not having seen through you before."

 **A/N:**

 **Golly Gee Willikers. Only took me thirty-one chapters to get them together.**

 **One: To me, it is a jarring moment that can totally ruin a scene for me, when Hermione,**

 **as a completely natural person, swats Harry on his arm, and everyone tee-hee's.**

 **Teenagers just being teenagers.**

 **In my little universe, Harry sees a blow coming, with his history, he will either avoid it or at least** **flinch.**

 **There was supposed to be a several chapters set up with Harry's Mind Healer working on breaking**

 **down his intimacy barriers. A failure to plan, is a plan to fail. Blew that plot point.**

 **Before I started on this voyage, I never would have believed I could write 4,000 words of angst**

 **in a chapter. Dear God, my brain is dribbling out of my ears.**

 **I want to thank everyone who has Favorited/Followed this story. You 300+ people are often the only reason I sit down and try to keep my post rate at a chapter per month or so.**

 **Oh, lastly, because I was asked. I try for roughly 5,000 words per chapter.**


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